


Ncoy's New Universe

by TylrLoki



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Angst train leaving the station, Arranged Marriage, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Bad Parenting, Because I'm not brave enough for hard sci-fi, Blood and Gore, Character Death, Colonialism, Cyberpunk, Deep space sci-fi, Disabled Character, Dubious Science, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Everyone Is Gay, F/F, F/M, Fascism, First Dates, First Novel, Footnotes, Guns, Heavy Angst, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I just take forever ok, I love these tags, Imperialism, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Torture, Inspired by Avatar: The Last Airbender, Inspired by Dragon Ball Z, Inspired by Star Wars, LGBTQ Themes, Lesbians in Space, Military, Military Science Fiction, Military Training, Multi, No Lesbians Die, Not Abandoned, Not that bad but it's there, Outer Space, Paganism, Past Underage, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Poverty, Rats & Mice, Science Fiction, Sexual Harassment, Space Opera, Space Pirates, Strangers to Lovers, Suicidal Thoughts, Tags May Change, Trans Female Character, Unreliable Narrator, Updates when it does, Violence, Wakes & Funerals, War Crimes, Women in the Military, Worldbuilding, as pets though because we love them, by unreliable she's an asshole sometimes, casual stabbing, coding this site is a nightmare, political violence, republicanism, soft sci-fi, soft science fiction, space racism, space western, star wars type not american politics, t4t, tw violence, unbeta'd we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:48:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 52,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21641200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TylrLoki/pseuds/TylrLoki
Summary: In a massive universe, full of fun things like war and imperialism, the spare daughter of an empire gets a harsh awaking and does what any disaster 16-year-old would do: run away from home and become a space cowboy.Angst, chaos and gay shit ensues.
Relationships: Original Character(s)/Original Character(s), Original Female Character/Original Female Character
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	1. Movement 1 Section 1 (Updated)

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger/content warnings for this chapter: Smoking, emotional abuse, graphic violence, arranged marriage including a minor, major character death
> 
> This is the third draft of my first novel, I started it in 2017 and have been working on it ever since. It’s about 400 pages long, I don’t know how many words, the original drafts are on paper, and still incomplete. I’m constantly editing this work, so things will change. If you have any suggestions, ideas, see any typos, I would very much appreciate a comment. 
> 
> Thank you, and enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the third version of the opener, and I must say I like it much better. I deleted the first chapter to get it to show up as new. The previous version was posted in late November.

A massive crowd gathered under the tidally locked ‘night’ sky, all holding multicolored torches into the warm air. It was graduation night at Sayaa’s most prestigious academy, where the Five Moons’ best students became their best strategists and leaders. Among them stood Princess Ncoy, the sixteen-year-old, younger daughter of the Sayaaun empire. 

Ncoy stood with her classmates and her two closest friends, her elder sister Ritoyi and Kija, holding torches with everyone else. The headmaster came over the broadcast system and began to count down. The entire crowd joined in, louder and louder until zero, when the pyrotechnics inside each launched, bathing the other four planets in the system in colorful light. 

With the main event over, Sayaa’s teens flooded the capital’s streets, looking for how to continue their first night as adults. Ncoy and her companions followed the borderline parade down the largest street, while people waved and shouted from the sidewalks. They continued, the procession slowly becoming smaller as students dropped out, until Ncoy noticed her favorite arcade, and dragged Ritoyi by the sleeve to it. 

The trio was greeted by a blast of cool air and the thudding bass of synth music. Ncoy shouted over the music, “Bill it to the Palace!”

The attendant chuckled and unlocked the secondary door, waving the women through. It was nothing new, they came nearly every week. The arcade floor was covered with caped graduates, the lights of the arcade reflecting off the black of their uniforms and hair. All Sayaauns had straight, black hair and bloodlessly pale skin. 

Ncoy stood over a racing game, a common position for her six-foot frame, and solidly losing to both her friends and the bots. Her thick braid hit her in the knees as she lunged forward, desperate to pass anyone, and was instead given a solid ninth place. Kija, the winner for the eleventh consecutive time, leaned back on her forearm crutches to push a hand through her short hair, a beaming grin on her face.

They stayed until they were kicked out for closing at two-hundred hours, after which they went their separate ways. The royal sisters found themselves sneaking into the palace, again, to avoid waking anyone and being yelled at. Ritoyi crept up the back stairs to check on her baby daughter -Aryaa- one more time, she couldn't sleep without it, while Ncoy snuck to bed, already dreaming of her future.

Ncoy slept late, enjoying sleeping past the first eclipse for the first time in years. She finally went downstairs at twelve hundred hours, only to be greeted with sour looks from her parents and Ritoyi staring meekly into her bowl. The peaceful feeling of good rest evaporated, instantly transforming into dread. She asked from the stair landing, “I see you’re back from Nyaa, how were the negotiations?”

Her father, Emperor Loshio, replied, “As well as expected, they’re not returning any territory or breaking off fighting. The war continues as normal.”

Ritoyi let her spoon clatter in her bowl. As queen and eldest daughter of the Empress, the campaign to retake the southern territories was her responsibility. She had probably already received her post-trip ‘talking to’. Their mother, Empress Eashia, glared at Ritoyi then turned to the princess. “Darling, come down please.”

Ncoy took a deep, studying breath, and obeyed, taking a seat next to Ritoyi. Eashia began, “Now that you've graduated, it’s time to start thinking about the rest of your life.”

‘ _ No thanks to you.’  _ She thought. She said, “I’m ready to be High General, My teachers made sure of it.”

“We know, we mean who you will marry.”

Her throat tightened, and she instinctively looked to Ritoyi, who seemed just as surprised. Fighting to stay calm, she replied “I’ll find someone soon enough.”

“Darling, I doubt it. Your father and I have found a very nice young man for you, he's from Izarkh, pure-blooded, a great addition to the family. His name is Zarsion.”

A million things flashed through Ncoy’s mind at once, most of them she would regret. She settled on, “When do I meet him?”

“Just before the front lines tour, so less than a week.”

“Ok,” she whispered.

Ncoy stood, unable to stand sitting at that table for another second. She made for the front door as her throat tightened further and tears threatened, feeling their gaze burn into her back. Outside, the guards didn’t bother her, this was far from the first time someone had fled the palace in tears, instead wordlessly opening the gates to let her pass.

Ncoy started down the familiar route to Kija’s house, walking quickly with her head down, until she felt a tap on her shoulder. She spun, fearing a mugging, until she saw the familiar red streak in Ritoyi’s hair. Her sister asked, “Want company?” 

“Sure.”

They walked quietly together, in comfortable silence, retracing the steps they had taken together a thousand times before. Kija was twenty-three, three years older than Rityoi, and close enough to be a third sister. They had probably spent more time in total on her couch than in the palace. 

Her front door creaked when it opened, they didn’t have to knock anymore, as they called out for her. She shouted from the living room, and they took their respective seats, Kija in the armchair, Ritoyi on the right and Ncoy on the left. As the elder two often did, Ritoyi pulled out a pack of cigarettes and passed one to Kija. The Emperor and Empress hated that she smoked, yelled at her every time they caught her, and as such, no longer smoked where they could catch her. Ncoy jokingly asked, “When do I get to smoke with the big girls?”

“When I’m not around to slap you for it,” Ritoyi said.

“Yeah, don't you know these things are bad for you?” Kija added, pointed at her with her cigarette between her fingers.

They all laughed, and Kija leaned forward to ask, “So, what’s wrong this time?”

“My parents, again,” Ncoy replied with an eye roll.

“Good gods, what now?”

Ritoyi calmly said, “They arranged a betrothal for her.”

Kija hacked up a lungful of smoke in surprise, “What? Who?”

“All I know is his name is Zarsion and he’s from Izarkh,” Ncoy said, blowing her loose hairs out of her face.

“ _ That motherfucker?” _

Seeing Ncoy’s nervous expression, Kija continued, “No, not like Dehnito, he's a scientist, I met him when I was a sniper. He collects rocks for fun.”

Ritoyi nodded, “So he’s definitely not like Dehnito.”

“Zarsion will have to treat her well, she could slap him halfway to the southern border.” Kija joked.

The comment rubbed Ncoy the wrong way. Staring at her shoes, she said, “Alright, he won’t beat me. I’m so lucky.”

Always the voice of reason, Ritoyi said, “I’m sure it’ll turn out fine, and besides, it’s part of your duty.”

She gave her sister a bitter look, “I don't give a shit about duty. I’m not marrying him.”

Kija and Ritoyi shared a look, and Ritoyi put her hand on her shoulder. “You’ll understand eventually.”

Ncoy shook her hand off. 

They left for Izarkh at the end of the first eclipse, around twelve hundred hours. The Sayaaun system had five planets, giving Sayaa One, the seat of the Sayaaun empire and Ncoy’s homeworld, four a day, with a new one starting every twelve hours, in their forty-eight hour days. 

Ritoyi arranged for her and Ncoy to travel in a two-seat, wheel runner, away from the royal procession. The last thing either wanted was a long runner trip with their parents. Ncoy conceded the driver’s seat, a habit from when they were kids that she never broke. 

As they drove, the shiny skyscrapers gave way to middle-class concrete bloc housing, and eventually to the grey sands and skies of the dusk zone. As they continued north, the capitol was nestled in the safety of the south pole, the sky became darker until even the famous Sayaaun night vision couldn't pierce it and they needed the headlights. 

They soon caught sight of the Izarkh guidance tower, which emitted light and positional data, to guide travelers into the village. The ever-shifting sands of the wild made building roads impossible, and outback settlements were so few and far between that missing Izarkh spelled disaster. 

The relaxed mood tensed when they parked next to the royal procession. Ncoy moved to get out, but found the door to be still locked. She looked expectantly to Ritoyi, who sighed and leaned on the center console. “Wait a minute.”

Ncoy took her hand off the handle.

“Give him a chance, alright?”

“Really, you too? I thought you were on my side with this.”

“I am, it’s just…” Ritoyi trailed off.

“What?”

“You need to learn to accept things.”

Ncoy glared, but couldn’t completely hide her hurt. “Let me out.”

Deflated, Ritoyi pressed the unlock button.

The building was a traditional den, dug into the rocks below the sand. She walked down the ramp, through the outer, metal door to the inner door, trying to shake the feeling of walking to her grave. She pushed the inner door aside, even that was the traditional multi-colored rug, to find a cozy interior. There was one large room with a few more rug doors on the sides, a fireplace and another relic, an in-floor seating area full of pelts, with her parents and a young man sitting in it.

The inner door flapped shut, announcing her presence. Eashia called, “Ncoy, there you are! Come and sit.”

Ncoy reluctantly obeyed, she left her shoes with the rest at the door pile, and took a cross-legged seat between her father and presumably, Zarsion. He offered her his wrist, which she politely took. “The utmost pleasure to meet you, your highness,” he said.

“Thank you.”

The room lapsed into awkward silence until Eashia said, “We should let you two talk, we’ll be outside.”

As soon as the door flapped shut, he ever so slightly relaxed. Ncoy asked, “So, what did they tell you?”

“I’m sorry?”

“About me, what did they say about me. That I’m a ‘hassle’, maybe. That’s a favorite.”

“Oh, nothing of the sort your highness,” he replied, flustered.

“You don’t need to call me your highness all the time, this isn’t some court event.”

“Of course, your highness.”

She suppressed a groan. “Alright, fine.” she struggled for a small talk question, “How old are you?”

“I’m twenty-four, your highness.”

Ncoy took a moment to process his reply. Feeling a headache build behind her temples, she moved on, “So, what are some of your interests?”

“Well, your highness, I am a historian, over at the Izarkh Sayaaun History Center, which I very much enjoy, but I also collect rocks and minerals.”

They fell back into an awkward silence, until he said, “Did you know that Izarkh means ‘here we have no sun’ in Ancient Sayaaun?”

“I do, I’m actually proficient in ancient Sayaaun.” 

After a beat, he asked, “Did you know that these dens were dug by the ancients for protection from sandstorms and extreme temperature? This particular den was dug almost a thousand years ago, and I’ve kept it as original as possible.”

“I’ve attended a history class in my life, thank you.” she spat back.

He shifted awkwardly, and for a moment she regretted her words, but it passed. She bitterly asked, “What did my parents offer you for this? Credits? Princehood? An unsoiled sixteen-year-old?” She paused for a second, “You know what? Nevermind, I don't want to know.”

She stood in a huff, voice dripping with anger, “I'll leave you to your rocks.” 

She stormed out, past her parents, and right into the driver’s seat of her empty runner. She started it and sped off, ignoring her family’s looks. Ncoy floored it all the way home, not slowing down until she hit the crowded streets of the capitol. 

In the palace, all the servants recognized her stormy mood and knew to give her space. The marched up to her room slammed the door hard enough to shake the frame, and flopped down on her bed. She put her earbuds in and cranked the volume to max, pulling out her datapad to get lost in one of her ‘trashy’ books, another thing that her parents disapproved of. 

All too soon, someone was banging on her door and shouting her name. She answered it in no particular hurry, and to her surprise, it was Ritoyi and not her mother. Ncoy commented dryly,” So, you’ve taken this job over for our loving parents too, how  _ nice _ of you”

Ritoyi didn’t find it funny,” No, I’m here because dad wants to beat your ass and I convinced him to let me talk to you first.”

“Good to know he thinks of me sometimes, I was really starting to wonder.”

“Can you  _ stop _ ? For one fucking second? Good gods, you drive everyone insane and wonder why no one talks to you!”

Ncoy wanted to say something rude and clever back, but the shouting froze her mouth and rooted her to the spot.

“You need to learn your place, before you regret it.”

“And what?” she forced out, “Be a pushover like you? Not in a million years.”

“ _ Excuse me? _ ”

“You heard it.”

Furious, Ritoyi shouted, “After everything I’ve done for you? You're gonna turn on me now?”

“Can’t turn on someone who’s not with you,” Nocy replied, fishing for something that would hurt, and based on the recoil and Ritoyi’s momentary frown, she got what she was asking for.

Ritoyi snarled, “Fine, if you don't want it, I won't help you anymore. Let’s see how long you last.”

With that, Ritoyi began to stomp off, but Ncoy couldn't let her have the last word, “I’ll be just fine without your bitch ass! You’ll see.”

Ritoyi paused in the hall, but didn’t turn back. 

With the spur of the moment gone, Ncoy felt guilt replace her last-word triumph. She sat back down on her bed, contemplating if she should go and apologize. She couldn’t find the strength to do it.

She sat next to Ritoyi at breakfast the next day, the closest thing to an apology either of them usually got. Breakfast was her least favorite part of the day, particularly on post-fight days. There was something distinctly awful about having to sit and pretend everything was ok. When they finished eating, it was time to leave. Ncoy went back to her room and tossed some clothes in a bag, not bothering to check, and was back before anyone fussed.

The beginning of the trip was terribly awkward, being stuck on a ship with three people who were angry with her. Ncoy spent almost all of her time in her room, wanting to be anywhere but there. She was in the middle of a vivid fantasy that involved taking an escape pod when a gentle knock at the door interrupted her musings. She shouted, “Get away.”

Ritoyi answered from the other side, “Can we talk?”

“No.”

“Please?’

Ncoy cursed under her breath, “You're not gonna take no for an answer, are you?”

“Nope.”

She groaned as she walked to open the door. Rityoi plopped down on the foot of the bed, Ncoy returning to her earlier spot. Rityoi said, “I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry, for what I said yesterday.”

“Why are you apologizing? I'm the ass her, I should be, I just, haven't quite managed it.”

“I figured as such,” Ritoyi said knowingly.

Ncoy chuckled without humor, “I have no idea what I’d do without you. You know me better than I know myself.”

Ritoyi’s expression darkened, “Actually, I wanted to ask you something.”

Suspicious, Ncoy replied, “What is it?”

Ritoyi gripped her knee tighter, “If something were to, happen to me, I need you to watch over Aryaa. I wouldn’t want our parents to raise her.”

“Don’t talk like that, It tempts the spirits.”

Ritoyi gave her her most exasperated look, “Since when do you care about tempting the spirits?”

“Since you started acting weird.”

“I'm not-” She stopped to take a deep breath, “Just promise.”

Ncoy said slowly, “Why are you asking me this? Did you find something out? And why not ask Kija?”

“Ncoy, come on.”

“Alright, I promise. Now tell me what’s going on.”

Ritoyi visibly relaxed, “I had a dream, that’s all. It made me think.”

“You’d better not be planning anything.”

“Of course not, I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Good, don't.”

Ritoyi smiled, but was soon serious again. “I trust you more than anyone with my daughter. Believe it or not, you’re a good aunt, and a good sister.”

“Look, I’ll do it if it really comes to that, but you should pick someone who can keep a Zirzu bush alive for more than a week.”

“I’m picking you because you won’t fuck her up mentally. You know how to treat kids.”

“If you say so.”

The trip out only took about a week, not long when talking about universe-wide travel, and they had the whole time to relax, far from any responsibilities. Not surprisingly, the time flew by. 

Ncoy’s parents usually didn’t bother to interact with their people, unusual for Sayaaun royalty. They strongly preferred to let things play out as they would, which meant more work for the queen and priest levels. Ncoy’s great-grandparents took every possible chance to complain about it, and they had every right to do so. That day was the exception, her parents gave speeches, shook hands, everything that good rulers should do.

The crowd of soldiers kept fairly quiet during the forced patriotism sections, but as soon as the king and queen announced they were going back to their ship for the night, things heated up quickly. All the soldiers pulled out various personal items and contraband: amplifiers, unofficial comms, holo-screens, drugs, someone even pulled a Yiikrin table out of gods know where. The handsome soldier who’d been flirting with her all night put on a song with a heavy beat, and pulled her out to dance. Despite being graceful in fighting and riding, Ncoy was no dancer. She let him lead, messing up nearly every step, but had fun all the while. Slowly, the floor filled up, and eventually, it became a massive, hot, exciting pile of people jumping and dancing like maniacs.

Ncoy woke up sore the next day, slightly comforted knowing everyone else felt the same way. Her parents scheduled more speeches and ‘patriotic activities’, whatever that meant, for that day. Ncoy knew one thing, there wouldn’t be another party tonight.

She took her same spot as last time but this time Prres, the handsome soldier, didn’t show. Ncoy thought to herself, “ _ He’s probably just sleeping it off. I hope he’s doing ok.” _

Only minutes later, an ear-splittingly loud siren went off. The attack warning. All the soldiers rushed into action, most running off to their storage area for their guns, while a few herded the royal family back to their ship. They told them to lock the ship up and wait for an all-clear, leaving would be a death sentence. The soldiers acted perfectly calm and collected, but their shaking hands in the polite handshakes betrayed them. Ncoy lingered a moment longer while everyone else ran off. One of the soldiers, the tall, light-haired man, told her, “Please, just go. There will be hell to pay if something happens to you.”

She waited just a few seconds more, then turned and ran to the ship. The fortified doors were shutting as she arrived, a few seconds later and she would have been too late. Eashia immediately starting screaming in her ear about how stupid and reckless she is, but Ncoy paid her no mind, walking robotically to her room. As soon as she slammed the door to it, she picked up the nearest item, a ceramic mug, and threw it with all her strength at the wall. It shattered loudly, and the cold, over-brewed tea within trickled down the wall. She paced around, furious at being forced around yet again, and determined to take back her choices. She would sneak out and join the fight.

She thought she managed to get away unnoticed, but Ritoyi followed her, down the stairs and into the kitchen, where one of two escape hatches were. Ncoy flipped all the needed switches to open the small hatch, and laced up her boots as she waited. Just as she heard the telltale click, Ritoyi made her move. “Why?”

Ncoy jumped, hitting her back on a table. “This definitely isn’t the worst thing you’ve caught me doing.”

Ritoyi wasn’t in the joking mood. “I asked you a fucking question. Why are you doing this?”

Ncoy tucked her knee-length braid into her shirt, otherwise, it could get caught on the hatch, “What right do I have to sit tight, a fully capable warrior, while our people lay down their lives for us? I’m no coward, and besides, what do I really have to lose? If I get shot, then at least I’ll die honorably.”

“Everything! Your life is important!”

Ncoy gestured out the open hatch, which she sat on, “More than theirs?”

Ritoyi huffed, “It’s not a competition. You matter, and so do they.”

“I’m going. Conversation over. Have a nice life,” She turned so both legs hung over, and positioned herself to swing out.

“Wait!” Ritoyi called, “I’m coming too. If I have to risk my life to prove you’re not worthless, then so be it.”

Ncoy knew she wouldn’t be able to convince her, so she shouted, “Stay here!” and swung out. She rolled into a landing, and dug into a hard sprint, hoping she could lose Ritoyi on the way out.

Upon hearing shots, and screaming, she slowed to a walk and checked behind her. Ritoyi hadn’t given up. She saw a dead soldier, a young, Nyan person, identifiable only by the color of their uniform. Their head had been shot off, leaving only a bloody mess behind. They still held their gun, from a low-end southern maker, with only one shot gone. She said a short prayer for their soul, and took the gun.

She easily caught up to the battle, and as soon as she did, she wished she hadn’t. The UNSC’s declaration on the laws of war had been shredded on this ground. The savagery went uncontained, leading to awful sights, and the worst screams she had ever heard.

The weaker Nyan forces launched a surprise attack, leading to lots of early Sayaaun deaths, but Sayaa had better troops, who slowly pushed the tides of battle back into their favor. The grey rock ran red and gold with blood, and mangled bodies lay abandoned. She hadn’t been spotted yet, but didn’t want to wait around for it. She saw a rock outcropping, large enough for her and maybe Ritoyi to hide under. Her training took over, and she bolted for it, Ritoyi right behind her. Her back slammed hard against the rock. She sat, Ritoyi next to her, clutching the gun and forming a plan. She whispered, “Any chance you’ll wait here?”

Ritoyi peeked around the rock, and had to pull back fast to keep her head intact. “No way in hell.”

Ncoy swore quietly under her breath as shots hit their shelter. She peeked around her side, and grasped the gun a little tighter. Almost without warning, she burst out into the open. Ritoyi, alarmed and unprepared, tried to follow, got a bad push, and fell.

She didn’t stand a chance.

A high-powered shot ripped her head apart, Ncoy watching the whole thing. She slumped, dead before she had any clue what happened. Ncoy couldn’t compute what happened, she just stared and stared. Ritoyi’s skull lay in fragments, as her spinal fluid and blood leaked out. Her black and red hair lay in the blood, her brain visible and missing pieces. There could be no helping her, and Ncoy didn’t know what to do.

Ncoy didn’t remember the rest of the battle. She came to, holding a broken gun with blood on the barrel, her right arm shot and buzzing , along with her hair mostly loose. She couldn’t even see the battleground, or the ship, and had no idea where she was, or how she got there. She knew she couldn’t just sit there, so she staggered to her feet and started walking.

Eventually, she found the ship. She pounded on the door and slunk down next to it, nothing feeling real quite yet.

She must have fallen asleep, because what felt like seconds later, Jasif, a servant who had been with the family since before Ritoyi was born, had his hands wrapped around her shoulders, yelling and shaking her awake. When she groaned and opened her eyes, he pulled her into a suffocating hug. “Thank the gods, we all thought you were dead, you were gone almost four hours.”

She wanted to reassure him, but instead of words, only harsh, dry coughing came out. He had to steady her on the walk inside. As soon as she saw them, Eashia nearly tackled Ncoy. “My baby, Ncoy! I was so worried!”

Ncoy didn’t respond.

“Baby, where’s Ritoyi?” Her mother asked gently.

That question made the horrible scene from a few hours ago suddenly real. It wasn’t one of her nightmares, or some sick daydream. It was real. It felt like her blood dropped twenty degrees in an instant.

Eashia put her hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “Ncoy, what’s wrong?”

Upon receiving no response, she asked firmer. “Ncoy?”

Ncoy began to cry, softly at first, but it picked up speed until her back shook and her breaths became ragged. Eashia quickly understood. “Ncoy you better fucking not have. If you killed my firstborn then I’m gonna beat you fucking senseless, you hear me?!”

She stumbled off, leaving Eashia fuming with rage and her friends shocked. She collapsed on the floor in a random room, sobbing her heart out. Eventually, she got too dehydrated to cry anymore and let sleep take her, fully aware it could kill her . She didn’t much care anyway.

She awoke to her parents talking in the room over. Her father said, just barely loud enough to hear, “They just found her. She would have been gone before she even knew.”

Her mother gasped. “Oh gods, Why did it have to be her? Our perfect daughter. We always knew Ncoy was trouble, but this…”

“How do we know she didn’t do it herself?”

“I doubt it. Ritoyi meant everything to her.”

“She won’t make it as queen. We’ll have to disown her.”

“That won’t work. We’ll have to banish her.”

They kept talking, but Ncoy had heard enough. She slammed the door on her way out, hard enough for it to nearly come off the doorframe. She wanted them to know she heard their ‘private conversation.”

Ncoy had no intent to be seen for the rest of that cursed trip. She planned to lock herself in a room the whole way back. Her mind kept short-circuiting, unable to imagine the next hour, much less the rest of her life


	2. Movement 1 Section 2 (Updated)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A fairly short bridge into Movement 2, which is coming along much quicker than movement 1. It's not abandoned, I swear, I'm just really slow. Trigger warnings: Suicidal thoughts, emotional abuse, mentions of graphic violence, significant mentions of death

Ritoyi’s funeral was set for only two days after their return, faster than tradition would normally allow. Ncoy privately assumed it was so she could be banished sooner, since it wasn’t allowed until after. She could scarcely believe they would slight their favorite daughter’s memory to be rid of Ncoy faster.

She agreed to go, she wouldn't allow herself to be deprived of it, but on the morning of the funeral, she regretted her choice. Sayaaun culture didn’t have a designated morning color, but attendees were asked to wear black and red, for the Empire and for ritoyi’s favorites. Ncoy wore her black, full length and ruffled dress, lined on the edges with red, which she and Ritoyi had bought matching to wear to the solstice ball. She could hardly bear to look at it, much less put it on.

Ncoy stepped downstairs into the crowd of mourners, full of officials from all areas of the empire. It looked more like an Imperial conference than a funeral. Ncoy slipped through, looking for the drinks table. Gods knew she would need it. 

Drink in hand, she mingled on the floor. Ncoy wasn’t the best known of the Sayaaun royalty, so she was prepared to be ignored, but even her low standards weren’t met. She received not a single well-wisher, not one person bothered to take a moment to comfort her. Ncoy placed herself at the edge of the circle of Five Moons nobility, the Lords and Ladies of Sayaa two through five, mainly her distant cousins, who were all happy enough to ignore her. They didn’t even spare her a glance. 

She wandered through the room, quietly wishing for someone to see her, to offer their prayers, their condolences, anything. She felt like a ghost in her own home, nothing more than a mournful spirit, as if she was the dead one instead. Ncoy knew everyone would have preferred that end.

At the drink table for the third time in the pre-service, she briefly entertained the thought of throwing herself from the window. Would everyone rush over, ignoring the broken glass, to witness the latest tragedy to befall the royal family? Or would they be too busy with their battle strategy and trade deals to even notice? Would they call for a medic, or leave her to stain the footpath below? If she were to die, would they come to her funeral? Would she be buried with full rights, in the light of the gods? Would the gods take her? Would she even  _ have  _ a funeral?

The call to prepare for the service shook her from her spiraling thoughts. Ncoy made her way to the chairs outside to sit up by the podium, near her parents like a good daughter, while her great-grandmother prepared the rituals.

Sayaauns believed that the noble and faithful lived forever in grand deserts without sandstorms, among their worthy ancestors and the gods, as long as they were anointed for correctly. As long as there was fire, an offering, and people who cared, it was enough, but no expense had been spared. An entire Illupha, a large wildcat, laid on a pyre, along with the individual candles everyone held, and the massive feast waiting for afterward. They only missed genuine care.

Ncoy largely tuned out the words of the ritual and thought of Ritoyi. Were the gods riders arriving to take her to the next life yet? Did her spirit come home to sayaa to wait there, or did she stay beside the other lost and waiting souls at that bloody field? Waiting was like her, she could never make herself leave when there were people she could still help.

She thought of how she would react when she would see the Vkirite riders, she would spin her head, making her hair fly around her shoulders, then tuck the red section behind her ear, it was always in her face. She would smile that small, honest smile that only a lucky few got to see,  _ that Ncoy would never see again,  _ then take a final glance at the waiting, assuring them their rider would come soon, and she would go on to be free,  _ far from where her brain decorated the sand _ .

The gruesome memory taunted her again as she became vaguely aware of the pressure building behind her eyes. She pushed both away to return to her comforting thoughts. 

Who would Ritoyi greet first? The first rulers of Sayaa? Fiyrah, the goddess of war, or maybe Ovith, the grandfather of all Sayaauns, particularly those far from home? Would she greet the last Emperor of the Universe? Their great-grandfather, who had only crossed the great barrier a year ago?

The high-priestess ordered all to pray with her, and Ncoy did, bowing her head with the rest, but the connection would not come. She could not calm herself, nor quiet her mind enough for it. Even the gods would not listen, it seemed. 

Eventually, the prayers finished, and her parents stood to speak beside the pyre. Traditionally, everyone close to the dead would say something, but Ncoy had not been welcomed, and Kija wasn’t invited.

She had to listen to them tell Ritoyi’s story without a shred of truth. They called her a true daughter of the gods, without mention of how she openly questioned the lessons she thought wrong. They spoke of her great leadership, but now how much she cared for her troops, nor how badly she wanted the war to end. They didn’t even mention her not only surviving, but rising above her ex-husband’s cruel treatment. They said nothing of how she proudly wore the white streak in her hair that most hid, how she went barefoot at every opportunity, how she loved photography and green tea, or how her handwriting was neat enough to pass for typeset. 

And now, no one would ever know those parts of her.

Ncoy didn’t stay to eat afterward, she’d had enough of insulting Ritoyi’s memory to last a lifetime. She slipped up the stairs to hide in her room, but quite literally ran into Zarsion in the back hallway. They both had their heads down and didn’t look up until it was too late. She tried to push past him without saying anything, but he held his arm out to stop her. She bitterly asked, “What do you want?”

“To apologize. I couldn't stand it either, how they’re treating this.”

“You didn't know her. You have no right.”

“Maybe, but I don’t need to have been close with her to see it.”

With a venomous look, she tried to push past and was again stopped, “Look, I know you’re angry, you have every right to be, but it won’t bring her back,” he hesitated a moment, dropping to a softer tone, “Just for the record, I don’t believe it was your fault.”

She didn’t move, instead waited a second to see if he was lying. She wiped an unwelcome tear away with a rough motion, and he said, “Go on, I won’t keep you anymore.”

Her throat barely obeyed, but she choked out, “Thank you.”

“Anytime, Aowkyea .”

She continued to her room, and when there, pulled out her communicator to talk to Kija. She was desperate to talk to someone who she knew, for sure, cared, and understood. She punched in the code, and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

When the call beeped unanswered, she called again, countless excuses for why she didn’t pick up flurrying through her head, until that call went unanswered, along with the next, and the next.

In total, she called seventeen times, growing more frantic with each unanswered call. On the final unanswered call, she threw her comm full-strength at the wall, barely stopping herself from collapsing into a fit of tears She said to no one, “fine, if no one cares here, I’ll make my own way. Fuck this place, and fuck Sayaa. We’ll see if they care when I’m gone too.” 

With single-minded focus, she pulled off her dress in favor of dark, practical clothes, threw together a bag with everything she could use in the real universe, along with all her credits and her jewelry. She checked up and down the hall before leaving, and upon seeing it empty, she made a break through it, moving quickly and quietly for Ritoyi’s room. At the threshold, she almost couldn’t force herself to open the door, but knew she would never forgive herself if she didn’t take one last look.

Ncoy expected things to look different, to somehow reflect everything that had changed, but of course, it didn’t. It looked like Ritoyi was maybe on some diplomatic tour, about to walk in any moment now and complain about how the maids had forgotten to dust. The smell of her perfume and hair dye lingered, and her favorite hoodie lay discarded on the bed, perhaps she had forgotten to pack it on the fateful trip.

Ncoy felt bad about it, but she had to take Ritoyi’s credits. She had a whole collection of metal, paper, and plastic credits under her bed from all over the universe, and Ncoy expected to need every last one. She pulled the box from under the bed, and found something else unexpected, one of Aryaa’s toys. It was a plastic figure of a Sayaaun soldier, Five Moons forces, with toddler bite-marks in it. She crammed the hoodie, credits box, and the toy in her bag, and turned to leave. 

Her necklace hitting her in the chest stopped her. It was the symbol of Asa, Sayaa’s native religion, a stylized Sayaaun fist with the claws between the knuckles extended. She had worn it every day since she took her vows as a child, most of which she was about to break. It was a symbol of her devotion to her family, her empire, and to her gods. 

Now made as good a time as any to leave it behind.

Ncoy returned to her room to take it off. She left it next to her funeral dress, on the bed, the sight feeling final. She considered leaving a note, but decided against it. They didn’t deserve an explanation. She turned on her shattered comm one last time to hail a transport, and when that was done, laid it down next to the rest.

In the halls, while slipping out, she realized she hadn’t said goodbye to Aryaa, and worse, had no time to do so. She was in danger of missing the tram as it was. The toy in her bag would have to do for remembering her by. 

Ncoy had beat the rush out of the Palace, which was lucky for her. Thankfully, the rest of the twenty or so seats were empty, and she only had to deal with the driver. He said to her as she sat down, “Damn near left without yah. Where are yah going’?”

“Gujaii court.”

“Why would anyone want to go there? An’ now of all times? Are yah trying to get yourself mugged?”

He almost definitely was from the western edge of the universe, the accent was almost too thick to understand him, and they also had a reputation for being very talkative. She’d be surprised if he was a full citizen . She snapped back, “Did I hire you to drive or talk?”

That shut him up. She kept her hood pulled low, watching the quiet streets go by, hoping he wouldn’t recognize her.

“So, uh, where exactly do yah wanna be dropped?”

“Naukkes and Brothers Mech, on the outer edge.”

“You’ve got it.”

She was up before the tram even fully stopped. She dropped a few dollars into his tip jar, and he caught a good look at her face. As she walked off, she could hear him whisper, “Princess..?”

She motioned for him to keep quiet, and he understood. Ncoy could only breathe again when he turned out of sight. She stuffed her freezing hands into her pockets and set off, walking for a shop she wasn’t supposed to know about, underground mechanics, two brothers, who supplied all the parts and ships for Sayaa's smugglers. She knew how much she was betting on, but by this point, it wasn’t even on her mind. To her, it would work. There could be no other option.

The storefront was more or less what she expected, run-down, and seemingly closed, but that wasn’t stopping her. She tried the door, and upon finding it locked, began to bang on it and shout, without a single thought to the rudeness of it. Eventually, one of the brothers, Naukkes, opened the door. He was in pajamas and bleary with sleep. He quietly said, “The fuck you want?”

He rubbed his eyes and got a better look at his guest, which seemed to very much surprise him, “Princess? This has to be a dream,” He said, closing the door.

Ncoy stopped him, and said with a pleading edge in her voice, “It’s not a dream. I need something from you.”

He glanced at her, unconvinced.

She went on, “Please, I have credits, you know that.”

Shaking his head and sighing, he said, “Alright, come in.”

Walking her through the dark front to the back, where the hidden entrance to the actual shop was, he said, “You better have a damn good reason to be bangin’ on my door in the middle of the night like that.”

She replied without looking at him, “I’m... moving. I need a ship.”

Naukkes stopped short, slippers squeaking on the concrete floor, “You’re moving? What’s that supposed to mean?”

She put her hands on her hips. “It means I am going to live somewhere other than here. Can we just get this over with?”

Certain of her lie, he continued on.

After switching on the lights, he asked, “You said you wanted a ship, right?”

“Yeah. Unregistered.”

“You think I sell registered ships? Half of these are fuckin’ stolen. Anyway, what kind? Our inventory is kind of shit right now, though.”

“Should be alright. I need something that will blend in, and I can live on for a while. Other than that, I don’t care. As long as it runs.”

He rubbed at his face, thinking about her request. “Uh, I got this real piece of shit, it’s ancient, we have no idea how old it is, other than it’s changed hands countless times. It used to be a freighter, but someone ripped out just about everything in it and made it into the mess it is now. It used to do smuggling way out in the southeast. Last I heard this guy and this Vokki had it.”

“You’re not doing a very good job selling it.”

“I’m a criminal, not a savage. I don’t mislead people.”

She thought about it for a second. “Anything else I should know?”

“There’s something really wrong with the entire light speed system. I can’t figure out what’s up with it.”

She nodded, “So, where is it?”

“It’s in a lot on the outskirts of the city. Not too far, I’ll give you the address.”

She was just about to say something, but he interrupted, “Oh! I almost forgot, it had a name, something like Hawk Thousand. It was in this weird language from this tiny ass galaxy. I had to do some major archive digging for the translation.”

She didn’t acknowledge him, handed him a stack of metal credits, and took the keys when he offered them.

While outside, she checked the address, the lot was barely a block away. For the entire walk, she kept her hood high and walked quickly, finding herself jumping at every shadow. The streets of her home city no longer felt safe.

When she first laid eyes on the ship, she thought she’d been duped. She thought, “ _ There is no way in the Goddess’ palace that that scrap pile runs. I should have known not to trust him.” _

Sighing deeply, she trudged over to the hatch and waved the keycard over the little sensor. The metal creaked and complained loudly, but it opened. Inside, with all the lights off, the thing looked abandoned, and every dark corner seemed to stare, only worsening her nerves. The cockpit wasn’t much better, beyond outdated and covered in grime. She considered herself a decent pilot, but wasn’t quite sure if she was up to the task of flying this…  _ mess. _

On the first try at starting it, the thing sputtered and coughed, and her heart fell. She  _ couldn’t  _ give up, she  _ wouldn’t.  _ In her frustration, she slammed her fist down onto the control panel, hitting a few buttons, which made the sputtering noise stop. She took a few deep breaths to try to calm herself down, and attempted to start the ship again. This time, it roared to life. She let out a yell of triumph, and guided the ship into the sky.

With how the windows faced, she couldn’t see her former homeworld as she flew out of the system and into empty space. She wouldn’t have looked back, even if she could.


	3. Movement 2, Section 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the space western begins! 
> 
> tw for referenced and attempted racist violence, racist comments, and verbal sexual harassment
> 
> Please note, the entirety of the second movement is on the rewrite list, please forgive any issues <3

With a ship of the Hawk’s age and condition, a straight shot to the southern edge could take as long as nine Sayaaun months, not including the hundreds of times she would have to stop. She needed a semi-civilized and hopefully peaceful area. This excluded the permanent warzone of the central universe, the wild Northwest, and the center of Nyan power, the Southwest. She was currently leaving the northern edge, and had no intention to ever return there. The Northeast and Southeast corners were mainly uncontacted, full of unnamed, uninhabitable, or savage worlds, so not there. She also wanted to never deal with the Sayaaun empire again, which nixed the relatively normal east and west central areas, leaving her with one option, the central south.

The central south, although officially controlled by Nyaa, had little contact with the war. They had a great deal of average planets, who exported some troops and some supplies, but nowhere near as much as the truly loyal southwest or war-torn northern sections of Nyaa. Most Sayaaun defectors ended up there, since they tended to not ask questions. The central south made a good place to start over.

Even with this skeletal plan, she felt overwhelmed. For the first time in her life, she had no exact path, no life plan laid out by long-dead royal ancestors, no one but her calling the shots. She stretched out in the cockpit seat, watching the stars drift by. She had the freedom to visit any of them, or none. The sheer amount of choice awed her.

She didn’t have a clue where to start.

She considered stopping to visit some old friends, living off the Five Moons29, but she wanted to start over, fully. She left in the middle of the night for a reason, the time had come to burn all bridges, and she couldn’t do that still clinging on.

As she often did, her hand found its way to her necklace, the symbol of her- no, Sayaa’s native religion, a stylized Sayaaun fist with the claws extended. An impulsive thought flashed through her mind, and she didn’t hesitate. She wrapped her hand around it, and pulled, hard and fast. The cord snapped, and she threw it to the ground, not caring for where it landed. The metal on metal clatter seemed to hold in the air long after it sounded. If the gods had abandoned her, so be it. She would not wait for forgiveness.

To celebrate her newfound freedom, she did what anyone in her position would; she went to a bar that night. Then the next night, and the next, and the next. For two weeks, she drifted without a care in the entire universe, free to live off beer and energy drinks without being questioned, free to sleep two hours one day and fourteen the next, all without anyone breathing over her shoulder. She let the days run together, worrying about nothing, until her bank account read twenty-seven credits, and the ship ran dangerously low on fuel. Unless she came up with about two hundred credits, and soon, she risked getting stranded in space, and she wasn’t that ready to die.

In the bar of the night, she sat in a secluded booth, looking for any pirates, smugglers, bounty hunters, anyone who might have a gig for her. There was one man, sitting in the corner, hat pulled low over his face and talking to an ever-changing group of people who didn’t have drinks, who seemed like a good bet.

Upon sliding into the booth with him, he said in a deep, gravelly voice, “I was wonderin’ when you’d finally come talk to me. You weren't exactly being subtle.”

“I was just making sure.”

“Mm-hm, and let me guess, you’re a brand-new bounty hunter, looking for your first job. Am I right?”

“More or less. I’m just looking for some fast cash.”

He chuckled and shook his head, “I don’t know why there are so many of y’all. There’s lots of nicer ways to make money, and there’ll never be a rich bounty hunter.”  
“I’m ex-military, there’s no way in the cold heights of hell I could hold down a normal job,” She replied.

“Sayaaun forces, right? Imperial or Core30?”

She had to think about her reply. Technically, being second in command put her in both categories. Dodging the question, she dryly asked, “What gave it away?”

He didn’t press her to answer, “That’s tough. I’ve seen Imperial forces in action, and they don’t fuck around. If you got through that, maybe you’ll actually survive your first job.”  
“Thanks for the confidence.”

He ducked down to pull something out of his bag. He set it in front of her and said, “I think this one will do you well.”

She picked up the object, a disposable holo-tab, meant to display information only a few times before being wiped or destroyed. She turned on the hologram and quickly shut it off, she’d check the info in private, it worked just fine.

“Good luck. Come on back if you ever get the itch again.”

The holo-tab held an image of the target, her last known location, that she owed thousands of credits to some organization, and that she was wanted alive only. Thankfully, the job didn’t seem too terrible, Ncoy didn’t want to do anything terrible, and also didn’t seem too hard. Both the last known location and drop-off planet were even in range of her fuel supply. A simple, in-and-out mission, nothing she hadn’t done before in the military. Certain she was ready; she made the jump to lightspeed.

The last known location turned out to be on a mountainous, snowy moon, in an overlooked part of the central north. The exact coordinates led her to a run-down cottage, nestled in a shallow valley. It seemed like it hadn’t been touched in a long time, but Ncoy knew better than to trust it’s looks.

The door refused to open, locked or rusted shut she couldn’t tell, but it was quickly solved with a sharp kick to the locking mechanism, using her heavy boots to crush it in. The bolt gave way, and the door swung open. She caught it before it could slam against the wall, and began her search.

If the outside looked abandoned, the inside was decrepit. The roof lacked tiles in some spots, and the floor looked untrustworthy. She hung close to the walls, trying to stay as quiet as she could. She kept completely aware, looking for any hints of life. Soon enough, her patience paid off. With her ear to a wall, she heard a choked gasp, and a quiet flurry of movement.

She waited for a count of ten, holding her breath, to see if the target would try to run. When she didn’t, Ncoy moved silently, taking absolute care not to give herself away. She unholstered and raised her pistol, flicking the safety off and resting her finger next to the trigger. She suspected the target was in the closet, when she threw the door open, she was right. The target sat huddled with a girl who was about five northern years old. Ncoy gruffly commanded, “Get up.”

When neither of them budged, Ncoy bent down, grabbed her upper arm, and forced her to her feet, the woman kicking and screaming the entire time. The little girl stared mutely, still curled in on herself.  
She wrestled the target’s arms behind her back, and promptly noticed she didn’t have cuffs. She whispered, “Fuck,” to herself, and unfortunately, the target heard her.

“Something wrong?”

Trying to seem tough and more experienced, Ncoy struck the back of the target’s head, and told her, “Keep quiet.”

She laughed, “Wow, you’re really new. First time?”

“I’m not gonna tell you again, shut up.”

Having bothered Ncoy enough, the target did as Ncoy said. With little other choice, Ncoy resolved to keep her gun ready and keep a strong hold on the target. As she dragged her out of the room, she remembered the child, who never made a sound at any point. She hesitated, and quietly asked, “What do you want with the kid?”

The target scoffed, “What do you care?”

“I really don’t. She’s not part of the agreement.”

She mulled over the question for a moment, before answering in a quiet voice, “She’ll be safe here.”

“Well, then I never saw her.”

The target must have been smart, she never struggled walking through the house, instead she cooperated and thought. Ncoy assumed she would make a break for it the instant they left the house, but she didn’t. She tightened her hold anyway. When Ncoy raised her foot to open the ship with her toe, the target wriggled out of her grasp, nearly knocking her over in the process.

She only took a few steps before she looked over her shoulder and saw Ncoy with her pistol pointed at her, and stopped to face her. She asked, “Are you really going to shoot me?”

“Not if you make the right choices.”

“I’d bet you won’t get your money if I’m dead, so why don’t you lower your gun? I know you won’t do it.”

“You’re right on one front there.”

Ncoy saw the barest shift in her, preparing to sprint away. Without hesitation, she aimed the pistol down, and fired. The shot hit a little lower than intended, striking her in the shin instead of the knee or thigh. The target dropped to the ground, shouting in pain and surprise.

Ncoy walked over to her and pulled her to her feet. With her arm wrapped around her, she said, “The deal didn’t say uninjured.”

For the rest of the flight, the target nursed her leg and glared at Ncoy from the passenger seat. Ncoy couldn’t blame her, and how she nearly snarled at Ncoy bordered on comedic, at least for Ncoy.

By the time they finally landed, the fuel alarm had been beeping for at least five minutes, and the target had begun to make clever comments on Ncoy’s flying skills. She felt so grateful to be out of that cockpit that she nearly knelt down and kissed the blue, sandy ground.

Looking around, she noticed tall, skinny, blue scale trees with fluffy tops, and rolling hills of coarse blue and grey sand. The landscape seemed familiar, but she struggled to place it. Ncoy checked the coordinates for the meetup, and set out with the target, who went limp allowing herself to be dragged through the sand.

At the coordinates, she found a compound of some type, tan tents and high wire fences nestled in-between the bluish hills, looking almost like a military camp. Coming in closer, two Sayaaun guards stopped her.  
She remembered why the place seemed so familiar. She had been there once before, on a mission to build relationships between the Five Moons and the tribes of Sayaauns scattered throughout the North. This had to be the Blowr system, a relatively new, but large tribe. That instantly complicated things.

One of the guards commanded her, in standard Sayaaun31“Halt! State your business.”

She pulled the target forward, and roughly set her down where the guards could see her. She gestured at her and said, “I’m here to collect on that bounty.”

The guards shared a look and one said, “Alright, I’ll escort you to the boss.”

Ncoy pulled the target up again, and followed the guard in through the gate.

Walking through the camp, she noticed signs in Sayaaun, Sayaaun being spoken, Sayaaun food, and Sayaaun people. She asked,” If you’re going to recreate Sayaa, why not live on the Five Moons?”

His lip curled up in offense before he replied, “We’re all banned or expats. Most of us were too... extreme, for Sayaa. Associating with tribes and such, to better defeat Nyaa. Which is illegal there. Sayaa doesn’t want real Sayaauns anymore.”

“I know Sayaaun law. And the Five Moons have the real Sayaauns32, not random tribes.”

He didn’t respond, and she knew better than to press.

He stopped at a large, circular tent in the center of the camp. Before entering, she wiped her face of any emotion and straightened up as best as she could, and brought her bounty back to a standing position, Ncoy’s arm wrapped around her.

Inside, an opening in the center of the ceiling cast the only light in the room, illuminating what could nearly be called a throne, ornate and surrounded by guards, with a small Sayaaun man perched on it. Careful to keep herself in shadow, she walked to the very edge of the light and threw the target in the circle of light, throwing blue dust in the air. In a tone as serious as she could manage, she said, “I’m here to collect.”  
The man on the throne leaned forward, then gestured his guards over to investigate. Ignoring Ncoy, the guards lifted her to nearly standing, and one of them said, “It’s her alright.”

The king, if he could be called that, gestured again, and the guard pulled her to the foot of the throne. Ncoy winced as they carelessly let her injured leg drag across the packed dirt floor. He said, “You’ve evaded me for far too long, Araj.”

Ever defiant, she met his gaze. “What you did was wrong. I set it right.”

“With more of the same? Bold of you to take the moral high-ground here.”

Uninterested in the squabbling, Ncoy cleared her throat loudly and stepped forward. “I don’t mean to interrupt here, but I’d really like to get my money and get going. I don’t have all day.”  
Instantly composed, he smoothed his robes and said, “Of course, one of you, get this lady her reward.”

The guard who escorted her through camp bowed, and said, “Yes sir, right this way please.”

Ncoy stole one last glance at the target- Araj- and stamped down her worry. Bounty hunters didn’t worry.

Outside, he quickly launched into awkward conversation. “So, where are you from?”

Bluntly, she said, ‘Deep north.”

“Alright, where are you going?”

“Down south.”

“Uh, ok, uh, what’s your name?”

She stopped and gave him the I’m-done-with-you look. “Take a hint buddy, I’m not interested.”

His face and shoulders sagged in disappointment. “Sorry,” He said sheepishly, “real Sayaaun women are so hard to find out here. I thought you were from the Five Moons, and I didn’t mean any harm.”

She bitterly responded, “It’s none of your business where I’m from. Go put moves on someone else.”

They arrived at the treasury, not a moment too soon, and he retrieved a box for her, full of coins, unfamiliar, seemingly local, and made of metal. She asked, “Will these even spend? I’ve never seen these before.”

He replied, “They will in this star system. I don’t know about elsewhere though.”

Satisfied, she slammed the box shut. He told her, “The king will probably be in touch. Sayaauns are so much more reliable.”

“Don’t expect me to pick up.”

The ship struggled to start, turning over again and again before finally catching and starting. The fuel alarms started again, along with a new one, warning her to not leave a planet, because she had about twenty minutes worth of fuel. “Please, shitbox, don’t kill me,” She asked it before lifting off.

Blowr lacked any type of starport, so she went to the nearest inhabited planet, the ship’s navigation system hadn’t been updated in three expansions33, so she could only hope the planet still had the starport listed.

Fate seemed to be on her side this time, as she not only made it to the planet, but the starport existed. The place only had three pumps, all of them broken down and charging outrageous amounts for fuel, but for her, it may as well have been a Tiark tree in the depths of the desert34. The attendant gave her an odd look when she handed them the coins, but they didn’t object. At least if they did, she couldn’t tell, she knew maybe ten words of Vinpa. They at least didn’t refuse the coins.

Back on Sayaa, she always had a list and limited credits when she went shopping, to keep her from spending the treasury, but this time, she could blow every last one of those fancy coins with nothing to stop her. She had a few things in mind, mainly a big electro-rifle, cuffs, and an outfit to help her look the bounty hunter part, but she could, and would, buy anything else she wanted.

The rifle proved easy to find, even with the language barrier, and the cuffs were probably kink gear, but they were strong enough. For the outfit, she went with camouflage, military-style pants. None of the pants truly fit, Sayaauns tended to be lean, and she would absolutely not wear men’s pants, so she chose baggy and long enough to cover her ankles. She decided to just wear a belt. The shirt she went with was black, and had some design in a disgustingly bright shade of green. It crept up if she raised her arms too high, but most importantly, it concealed body armor, which she also bought, excellently. She also picked up a small air-filtering mask, half-faced and black, which could also help if she really needed to not be Sayaaun at some point.

As soon as she finished her shopping, she moved on to finding another job, even if only to keep her busy. She punched in the coordinates for the planet she met the talkative hunter, Danyhet, and the autopilot told her at full speed, it would only take four hours. She left it on autopilot, and went to go take a nap.

In the two weeks or so she had owned the ship, the living quarters in the back of the ship had gone from ‘somewhat neglected’ to ‘complete hovertrain wreck’. Random cups and wrappers lay scattered on every surface, along with nearly all the clothes she owned, and a few towels, and probably the lost pocket knife. She told herself it didn’t bother her.

Tossing a few things off the bunk and onto the floor, she flopped face-first on the bed, kicking off her boots and the rest of her outfit, and changing into her over-sized sleep shirt, which advertised her old track team, and fell asleep almost instantly.

The ship jolting to a stop woke her, by almost throwing her on the floor. She pulled on her new pants and boots, not bothering to change her shirt.

Just as she expected, the bounty hunter sat in the same booth at the same place, feet still propped up on the table, hat still pulled low over his face. She slid into the booth, just like the last time, and he said, “I see you’re back.”

“I sure hope so.”

He glared at her for the joke, and said, “Gotta say, I’m surprised. Most never do a second job, assuming you’re not just here for a chat.”

“I’m not. I don’t exactly have soft eyes35.”

“I figured so. Did you like that last one?”

“Not particularly. Dealing with tribes like that has never been my favorite thing.”

“But you got out in one piece. I’d been sitting on that one for a while, they only deal with Sayaauns. You’re about as Sayaaun as they come, it’ll serve you well. Supremacists will really pay up for that.”

She sat quietly, letting what he said sink in. “I don’t want anything to do with the empire and its politics.”

He shrugged, “I don’t deal with the empire either. Or the republic for that matter. It wasn’t what I was implying.”

She’d had about enough of that conversation. “Do you have anything for me, or not?”

“A few, nothing great. Some bail jumpers, and one you might not be into.”

“Tell me anyway.”

“I’ve got a mass murderer, who’s been giving the Tiik system problems for ages. He’s a Sayaaun killer.”

“I would say I hear the eastern edge is nice this time of year, but that’s not fucking true. Whatever, I’m in anyway.”

“Better than the western edge.”

She shook her head at that. “Yikes. Anywhere but there.”

He handed over what could only loosely be called a holo-tab. All the corners were scratched, and the projector had a deep crack in it. She flipped it over, and the back looked just like the front. She asked, “Did this get thrown out a window?”

“Look, I didn’t do it, just take the fucking tablet.”

She cracked a rare smile. “Gladly, and unless you have anything else for me, I’ve got a murderer to catch.”

“One more thing, if you give me your communicator code, I’ll spread it around, maybe have some clients come to you.”

“Oh, thanks, it’s, uh,,, forty-one, ninety-eight.”

“How the fuck do you have a four-digit comms code36?”

She shrugged, “It’s my ship. It’s from an uncolonized galaxy, and it’s old.”

“You have a ship from an uncolonized galaxy? How?”

“Long story. If I’m ever in the system again, I’ll let you take it for a spin.”

“No, you won’t”

Walking away, she held her hands out and smiled, “You caught me there.”

On the ship, she began to dig through his record, trying to find a pattern in his murders, places he frequented, relevant people, anything. While looking, she found a memorial page for all of his victims, with twenty-six names and faces, most of them killed attempting to hitch a ride. Some had Sayaaun names, and biographies that spoke of a life in the empire, while others had eastern names, or light hair. He seemed to not just hate the Sayaaun empire, but the people.

With someone as well-traveled as her, Ncoy had encountered hostility before, but nothing beyond sideways glares and the occasional rude comments. Living in the depths of imperial territory shielded her from anti-Sayaaun sentiments.

She wondered what else she hadn’t seen.

With her plan made, she stepped on to the busy spaceport of Tiik’s largest city, uncomfortably tugging at her collar. She planned to play the role of a Sayaaun naval captain on leave, which meant wearing her old dress uniform, even if only for a short while. She had to sell the story, after all. The black and red Suuph’s-hair37 had never felt hotter, and the short cape hanging off one shoulder weighed heavily on her. With a dry swallow, she forced herself to hold her head high, and embody the captains she had known, full of themselves and oozing confidence.

She hated every second of the walk through the spaceport. Nearly everyone stared, their judging eyes boring holes in her confident façade. Children who lingered too long were pulled away and harshly told off by their parents. Her face burned with embarrassment, she felt like a zoo animal. Even appearing as a military officer from an unpopular world, the gawking seemed ridiculous. They acted as if they had never encountered a Sayaaun before.

The first bar she stopped in had been the perfect type of scum-pit to catch a murderer in, until the bartender, a large man with pale skin and messy, orange curls, caught sight of her. He stomped over to where she leaned against the bar, putting a glass down so harshly it nearly shattered, and tapped her on the shoulder, just a bit harder than needed. Ncoy struggled to suppress her flinch, but managed, and spun around slowly in her barstool to face him.

Merely inches from her calm face, he told her, “You need to leave, now.”

Playing up her northern accent a bit, she replied, “What’s the problem? No navy brats allowed?”

“No Sayaauns allowed, smartass. Particularly not imperials.”

She leaned down on the bar, pretending to be unbothered. “You’re gonna pass up on good, eastern credits, for this?”

“Last time one of you came ‘round, we damn near had a shootout, and I’m not in the mood to have another.”

She slowly rose to her feet, making a show of it. “You sure?”

“Get out,” He snarled.

Although not a major setback, being thrown out of that bar unnerved her. She made her way over to the next one on the street, there were at least six that she could see, forcing herself to stand up straight and keep her shoulders open. She couldn’t help but worry that she would be shouted out of everywhere.

Stomping down her worries, she pulled open the heavy door at the next run-down establishment, and had to stifle a groan as smoke flowed out the door. Out of everywhere, she had to pick a trashy strip club. She wanted to turn around and let the door slam, but she knew how strong of a chance she had to catch this murderer, the place reeked of shady dealings. With a resigned sigh, she started down the creaky, wooden steps. ‘This had better be worth it.’

It quickly became obvious that Ncoy had wandered into a brothel, not a regular strip club. For a short while, she thought she would be liberating some slaves along with catching a killer, until she saw a few workers clock out. One less thing to worry about.

She reclined at a booth, acting far drunker than she felt, and a green-skinned woman drifted over to her. In a smooth voice, she asked, “Is this seat taken?’  
Ncoy gestured in front of her, and said, “Go ahead.”

She sat down, then propped her elbows up on the table, leaning in just a bit too close to Ncoy. “So, what brings you to lovely Tiik?”

“Business. I’m a captain in the Imperial Navy, and I had some free time. I figured I’d have some fun while I’m here.”

“Oh, are you here for the women?” She asked in a tone Ncoy very much didn’t like.

She shrugged with a clever smile. “Maybe. Depends on who I meet.”'

The other woman leaned in closer, “I’ve always wanted to experiment with a woman like you. They seem so, dominant.”

Ncoy couldn’t tell if she had just been clocked, or stereotyped, but she struggled to keep her face blank of disgust either way. “We’ll see. You might have to convince me, though.”

As the evening wore on, more and more interested people joined Ncoy at her table, some respectful in their questions, most not. They all wanted to know about the Five Moons, the navy, and, of course, her sex life. She deflected as many as she could, but if she chased everyone away, other patrons, and her target, could think it suspicious. They crowded her, moving in ever closer, making Ncoy feel like she couldn’t breathe.

The green-skinned woman, who had moved to press up against Ncoy a while ago, picked up her braid to investigate it. Ncoy didn’t notice, until she felt a tug, and violently whipped her head around, causing the other woman to drop it. The woman said, “Wow, I didn’t know it would be so coarse. You must take good care of it for it to get so long.”

Ncoy snapped at her, “Don’t touch me.”

“I was just curious, you don’t need to be so rude.”

Ncoy wanted none of it. “Go find someone else to fondle.”

The woman stood up and walked off, muttering curses about Ncoy and Sayaauns that would have started a full bar fight on any imperial planet. For the tenth time that day, she wanted to go back to the ship, take the itchy, hot uniform off, and have the job be over.

The trapped feeling spiked when a short, JunJian woman moved in closer to Ncoy, leaning on her chest and wrapping her arms around her neck. She whispered in her ear, “Is it… true, what they say? About your kind?”

Ncoy decided she’d had enough of that. As quickly as she could, she untangled herself from her unwelcome lap-guest, and lifted herself up and over the table, intending to go hide near the bathrooms. She looked around, and judged herself to be alone. She fished around through her pockets for a cigarette, she rarely smoked, but kept a few on hand for times like this, and rushed through lighting it, nearly dropping the lighter more than once because of the shaking in her hands, she didn’t notice when that started, and crammed the lighter back in her pocket.

She stood absentmindedly, staring at the wall, and barely noticed when she reached the filter. She pulled the pack out of her pocket to light another, when a man approached her, seemingly out of nowhere.

Surprised, she jumped slightly and dropped the still-smoking end. She bent over to grab it, and nearly gasped when she glanced up at his face. He was him, the murderer she came for.

As she stood, he met her gaze with a warm smile, and said, “I’m sorry ma’am, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

She chuckled politely, “Oh, it’s alright, it’s just been a long night.”

“I get it, that group didn’t want to leave you alone.”

“Yeah,” she said, toying with her hair, “they must not get many Sayaauns around here.”

“We’ve had problems with the empire before, but it’s probably because it’s not great for y’all around here. Dangerous.”

Playing dumb, she echoed, “Dangerous?”

“Sayaauns… get attacked, sometimes. Particularly when they’re alone. Happens to Nyaans too, but y’all get the worst of it.”

Hoping her acting held, she said, “Wow, I had no idea. Guess I should have gone to Skaraiv38 instead.”

“Probably. If you’d like, I can take you to your ship on my runner39.”

“Bingo.” She grinned and said, “I’d really appreciate that, I’m parked in lot six.”

They walked out back, and she couldn’t help but be impressed. He took her to a leg runner, with four, spindly legs and a four lever control, an incredibly rare machine.

Leg runners, as opposed to wheel or hover runners, went out of style with the standardization of hovertech roads by the Sayaaun Empire, before the Nyan Republic became independent, almost eight-hundred southern years earlier. Leg runners were still made, mainly for difficult terrain on undeveloped planets, but they were few in number, and nearly impossible to come by.

“Nice, isn’t it?” he asked.

“I never see these, how old is it?”

“It’s first-generation Nyan40, Five-hundred and ninety southern years old. It’s got the old name41 next to the serial number.”

“Damn, this thing’s a relic.”

He gently patted the hood. “They just don't make ‘em like they used to. This thing is gonna outlive us all.”

She had to sit quite a bit closer to him than she’d really like to, especially knowing he intended to murder her. Unsurprisingly, he turned the wrong way for lot six, more than once, taking her far from her ship. Rather than risk being thrown off a runner at ninety miles per hour, she kept her mouth shut and pretended not to notice.

He eventually stopped in a distant, completely empty lot. They got off, and she pretended to look for her ship, careful to not let him get in a blind spot. He slightly turned away from her, undoubtedly to pull his weapon, but she was prepared. She strode over to him, hooked her hand in his collar, and threw him to the ground, his pistol clattering away from his open hand. She placed her boot on his chest, toes right below his throat, not hard enough to damage him, but hard enough to remind him she could crush him in an instant. He coughed and sputtered, from surprise and getting the wind knocked out of him.

She unbuttoned her suit jacket, boot still firmly planted, and drew her own pistol, flicking off the safety and pointing it at his forehead. She said, “This bounty is dead or alive, so make a move and I’ll blow your brains out and turn in your twitching corpse, but I just got this ship, and I’d rather not have your brain matter on my carpet, so let’s just make this easy on both of us, alright?”

He spit at her, hitting her square in the chest. She made a disgusted sound and tried to wipe it off with her sleeve. He gave her a satisfied look, and she pressed down with her boot. He started gasping and wheezing, and she let up. “Like I said, dead or alive, and I’m not feeling patient.”

“Go… to hell.”

“Soon enough, but you’re one to talk.” She took her boot off his chest, keeping her pistol trained on his face, “now get up, or I’m gonna drag you.”

He didn’t move.

“Really? You’re gonna make me do this?”

He defiantly looked away, “I don’t take orders from desert cats42.”

Taking his arm, she ungracefully dragged him to his runner, cuffed him, and threatened him until he got on the runner. While she puzzled at the controls, he leaned over her shoulder and asked, “Need me to drive?”’

Ncoy gave him a sour look and started the runner.

She quickly realized why leg runners went out of style the instant they could be replaced, she had to control each leg with a separate lever, along with manual clutch and manual speed control. To turn, each leg had to be timed right, and if any lever was out of place, the rhythm of the legs would be ruined, making the whole thing jolt harshly whenever the out-of -time leg would strike the ground. She had never been so happy to see the rust-bucket of her ship before that drive.

After leading him inside and cuffing him to a bolted-down chair, and being glared at, she walked back outside to consider the fate of the runner. She could just leave it, but, she thought, it could be valuable, due to its age, and she could have use of a runner, and she had the space, so, it came along.

Ncoy commed the police on the capitol planet while she flew there, in hopes of speeding the process up, she didn’t enjoy being around police, particularly ones that kept contact with the empire.

“Hey, uh, Tiik communications? I’m a bounty hunter, and I've got your escapee. I’m on my way to your capital now."

“This is Tiik central comms, can, can you repeat that?”

“That killer you have a huge bounty on, he's cuffed to a chair in my galley, and I’m requesting to land so I can hand him over.”

“Oh, yes, you’re cleared to land, platform one-eleven.”

“Thank you.”

They only sent one officer to meet her, who seemed completely shocked when she led him out. She demanded the officer’s handcuffs, and put them on the killer, snapping her’s back on her belt. Before she handed him over, she asked, “Where’s the money?”

“Oh, right, um, sorry, I don’t have it, we’ve had quite a few false alarms here, so…” He trailed off.

“Well, what are you looking at me for? Go get it.”

He nodded, and said something into his communicator as he walked away. She walked over to the gangplank, cuffed him to one of the support bars, and couldn’t resist rolling her eyes. “Local cops,” she thought, “Typical. Now I have to babysit.”

The officers took an entire standard hour to return with the bounty in hand.

“We apologize for the wait, it took some time to rustle up all that in physical credits. Tiik is almost entirely digital, financially.”

“Yeah, easy to track, easy to seize. Makes your job simple.”

All the officers stood, gaping like Vatnsdier43, unsure of how to continue.

“Also, you might want to look into the anti-Sayaaun sentiments on your moons. He wasn’t the only one who didn’t like me.”

She left without another word

  1. A common name for the Sayaaun homeworlds, five small planets orbiting a dim, ancient star.
  2. Sayaa kept defensive ’core’ forces and offensive ’imperial’ forces. The Core groups were rarely seen, but very high level. The Imperials, particularly outside Sayaa, were seen as brutes.
  3. Sayaaun has hundreds of dialects, each planet and tribe using their own, many were not mutually intelligible.
  4. Particularly then, many Sayaauns considered only ethnic Sayaauns who had been raised Sayaaun and could speak the language to be truly Sayaaun. Some considered anyone not ’pure-blooded’ and living on one of the Five Moons to be Nisae, an offensive term meaning fake.
  5. Periodically, the edges of the universe, more or less serving as walls, will push back, revealing new stars and planets. The expansions happen at random, but usually happen every fifty to two-hundred southern years, and are not entirely even, with the north being far older than the south.
  6. A Sayaaun saying, basically meaning an oasis. Tiark trees always grow on top of underground water sources.
  7. A northern saying, similar to ’tenderfoot’, meaning the person has not seen many bad sights.
  8. Similar to phone numbers on Earth, most communicator codes are long, usually are six to eight digits in the Sayaaun Empire, or eight to eleven in the Nyan Republic, but can vary wildly in unincorporated areas.
  9. A medium-sized animal, similar to a sheep, but with paws and six legs, native to the northern edge of the universe. The hair and its products are comparable to wool.
  10. A largely tropical planet deep in the east, controlled by the Sayaaun Empire, and a popular vacation destination for northerners.
  11. Personal ground transport devices, ranging from one to rarely more than six seats, generally without roofs, and with a wide range of propulsion methods.
  12. Nyaa became independent six-hundred years before the beginning of this story.
  13. The Nyan Republic was called the Nyan Republic of the Free South for the first twenty southern standard years of its existence.
  14. Another word for Ilipuhas, in this context, a strong slur for Sayaauns
  15. The most common aquatic intelligent species, native to the central north, but they can be found in colonies on most worlds with significant bodies of water



**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need to have a discussion with myself over my never ending use of footnotes


	4. Movement 2, Section 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, here it is. I will now retreat into my cave for a month again.
> 
> tw: mild sex scene, implied child abuse/neglect

For three months, she slowly wandered further south, no destination in mind, and no hurry to find one. She began to take random jobs, if someone needed it done and had credits, she did it.

Once, while squandering her earnings on a swampy, neutral, central world, she was fooling around in a dark arcade, trying to beat the racing game’s high score, an old woman approached her. Ncoy saw her standing politely near her, and as soon as she finished, she stood and offered the game, “Here, i was just finishing up.”

“No thank you, but, i do have a question for you,” She replied

Ncoy prepared herself for something invasive, “I probably have an answer.”

“Are you a bounty hunter, by any chance?”

That caught her off guard, but she quickly regained composure, “I am, how could you tell?”

She gave a warm smile, “You have the bounty hunter look, and when you’ve been around here long enough, you can pick it out.”

“Oh, interesting,” she jokingly added, “are you in need of my services?”

“I am, actually. If you’d help an old bat like me,” She said playfully.

Ncoy sat back on the game’s runner, “Of course, what do you need?”

“Well, don't laugh, but I have quite a large garden, and my wife and I aren’t as young as we used to be, and we could use some help getting it harvested.”

“That's a new one, but I’d be glad to help.”

The old woman brought her to a lovely, small, cottage, on the very edge of town, where another elderly woman waited on the front porch, a Nyan woman, with long, greying dreadlocks, dark skin characteristic of Nyans, lots of gaudy jewelry, and wire-frame glasses.

Ncoy stiffened up, instantly regretting agreeing to help. Nyans hated Sayaauns, almost as if every Nyan had the war born into them. However, this far from the empire and from the fighting, she could try to be civil, although she doubted the favor would be returned.

She walked up the steps, expecting a handshake at best, but when Ncoy offered her hand, she pulled her into a hug instead. Ncoy nearly pulled away out of instinct, but the hug felt oddly nice, in a way hugs rarely did before.

The Nyan woman pulled away, and said, “Sorry if that was inappropriate, you just seemed like you needed a good hug. I’m V’viene, and I take it you’ve met my wife, Qui’ra.”

“I have, yes, and I think you were right about the hug,” Ncoy replied, bashfully rubbing at her neck.

“I usually am. Now, what’s your name, sweetheart?”

“It’s Ncoy.”

“What a lovely name, Ncoy. I assume you’re here about the garden, right?”

Ncoy nodded.

V’viene turned and waved her inside, “Follow me, I’ll take you so we can get started.”

The house had cute knick-knacks on every surface, along with plush-looking, patterned couches, and a warm, inviting kitchen. Ncoy stood stiffly, as far from the furniture as she could manage, while V’viene and Qui’ra talked, feeling conscious of her muddy boots, rugged and dirty clothes, and the holster strapped to her leg. She hadn’t felt this awkward since leaving the palace.

In the garden, Qui’ra told her, “I only need help with the Jokiiqs45 and the Kabochiees46, too hard to dig and too heavy, there, in the row farthest left, I can handle everything else.”

Ncoy clapped her gloved hands together, “Alright, this won’t take too long.”

The air nearly choked her with it’s moisture, and the sharp grass made her knees itch where she knelt, but with the warm sun on her back and hands in the cool dirt, the whole situation felt peaceful, calm, and impossibly far from the rest of the universe. For those sweet, all too few hours, as far as she cared, only the garden and herself existed.

Eventually, V’viene called them for lunch, Ncoy sat up from her Jokiiq, and said, “Thanks, but I’m almost done. I’ll finish up first.”

She called back, “It can wait, come here before the food gets cold.”

Ncoy knew that tone, her great-grandmothers used it all too often on her, and knew better than to argue. She stood, brushed the dirt off her knees, and followed V’viene inside.

On their quaint kitchen table, laid a full meal, far more than Ncoy expected, the type she hadn’t had in a long time, with dishes from all over the universe. She stared at it, nearly open-mouthed, amazed at the gesture.

Qui’ra gestured to an empty chair and told her, “Sit down, eat, you’ve been working so hard.”

Ncoy nodded and sat down, keeping her eyes down and away from the kind couple.

“Have as much as you’d like, we don’t get a lot of company and I think I got a little excited cooking today. We’ll package some for you to take with you.” V’viene said.

She had been living off pre-cooked food and random ingredients that definitely didn't count as meals for longer than she cared to admit, even on Sayaa, and had long since forgotten what this felt like.

“I really appreciate this, you didn’t have to go to all this trouble.” Ncoy said.

Qui’ra replied, “It’s no trouble, bounty hunters usually need a bit of love, and we love to help.”

“You seem to have me read pretty well.”

Qui’ra and V’viene shared a knowing glance, “Takes one to know one, sweetheart.”

Ncoy thought about them for the rest of the job, coming up with less and less logical ideas, even considering staying on the planet, but she knew that could never work. As she prepared to leave, they gave her more credits than she expected them to have, some of the food from earlier, and an invitation to return anytime, which she accepted gratefully.

In the ship, she noticed no one had contacted her, unusual, but growing more common. The frequency of job requests had slowed from a torrential flood to barely a trickle. She tried to not let it worry her. With nothing to do, and an indefinite amount of time to do it, Ncoy decided to take something of a vacation, her usual bender routine, but with as much pressure off as she could manage.

She parked her ship on a planet barely in Nyan territory, a tough place, terraformed almost entirely into one, sprawling city, and very popular with criminals. A perfect place to hang around other low-lives and spend some time off the Hawk.

For the first time in a while, she got to wear something other than her hunting outfit in public, short shorts, a white crop-top and flip flops, which she bought at a tourist-trap place, went to one of the many cantinas, and for once, just enjoyed it. She didn’t have to scan the room constantly for threats or opportunities, like she did while working.

Her basic bender routine included hopping bars, businesses and strangers' houses for as long as she could manage, returning to the ship, or formerly the palace, only to refresh and pick up more credits. She drank, spent and hooked up freely, putting her faith in not being murdered or catching some disease, just as she had done a million times before.

She barely remembered stumbling to that man’s apartment, the memories of forcing him against the thin wall, nearly breaking it, rushed, gliding hands and his whispered, breathy compliments hazy. She didn’t want them clear.

Ncoy woke up before him, thankfully. She didn’t want to hear what he had to say, well-intentioned or not. He began to stir as she found her last sandal, but she slipped out the door before he could comment.  
She had a pounding headache, and a dry mouth, and didn’t remotely recognize the area. Finding the ship proved difficult, but she needed to stop there, just long enough to shower, change her clothes and drink some water.

She snuck into a holo-theater, any lock will break with a hard enough jab from a claw, and none of the janitors gave a damn, and sat through a trashy horror-record, full of inaccurate gunfights, not very scary, or maybe nothing could scare her anymore. Either way, it got her to twenty-one hundred hours, the earliest time cantinas would start to have fun people in them.

She chose a different one than last night, partially because she didn’t want to meet that guy again, and settled into a table at the back of the room, putting her feet up on the table and sipping whatever sounded interesting. While scoping out the room, force of habit, she noticed someone who definitely did not belong there, an older child, no older than six northern years old, carrying a backpack slung over one shoulder, and wearing a serious expression on their young face.

They met eyes for just a moment, and Ncoy waved them over to her. They walked over, trying not to get knocked over by any of the taller patrons, and hopped up on the chair opposite Ncoy. She waved a waiter over and ordered a soda, then leaned over the table to say, “Look, kid, I would not eat the food here, so if you’re hungry, I can give you a few credits and you can eat somewhere where you won’t get food poisoning.”

“Thanks, but I’m not here for food.”

The waiter returned as Ncoy said, “Oh, really? This is the only drink I’m buying you, unless you want another soda.”

They took a sip and glared at Ncoy, looking almost offended, “No, I need a ride, off-world and off the records.”

Ncoy finished her glass, and went to slam it, until she noticed the kid tense up, so subtle she barely caught it. She set the glass down quietly. “Running away from home? Been there, done that, wouldn’t recommend it. You should probably go home, kid.”

They sighed frustratedly, “ That’s what the cops said too, and I got my ass beat over it. I’m not going back.”

She considered what they said, “I said probably, didn’t I? But anyway, where are you heading?

“Anywhere but here. Maybe up north, I don’t care, as long as it’s out of the star system.”

“Well, I’m heading south, and if you want to hitch a ride with me, you are too. The north sucks anyway.”

Their face instantly lit up, “Really? You’ll take me?”

Ncoy held her hand up, “I said if. You got credits?”

She didn’t miss how the eager expression disappeared from their face, “Not many, six hundred and a few.”

“First lesson, never be honest about your credits, at least not right away, ” Ncoy snapped her fingers and continued, “how about this, kid, if I’ve got a job lined up, and it’s not in a complete warzone, I’ll drop you off there. Sound good?”

They crossed their thin arms, “What if you don’t?”

“Then I’ll take you as far south as a half-tank of fuel will get us.”

Ncoy stuck her hand out to make the deal, and they looked at it like it might bite them.

“Nothin’. But i’m not paying for food. It’s on my way. Now come on, let’s get moving before I change my mind.”

Ncoy walked quickly on purpose, to mess with the kid. Without slowing down, she asked, “What’s your name, unless you want me to call you kid the whole time.”

They took a few jump steps to catch up, and said, “Kid’s good, and slow down! I’m too short for this.”

Ncoy smirked, “The gods gave me these long ass legs, and I intend to use them. Be taller.”

She slowed down anyway.

When they got to the ship, Kid said, “That thing flies?”

“Hell yeah it does, damn good too.”

“Are you kidding? One good hit and it’ll fall apart.”

Ncoy crossed her arms, “I’m sorry, smartass, you want to go bum a ride from someone else?”

“No, no, I’m sure it's a lovely ship, really.”

She glared at them, barely keeping the joking smile off her face, and punched in the code for the gangplank. They followed her to the cockpit, Ncoy strapped into the pilot’s seat and said, “Unless you want to get real friendly with that wall, you might want to buckle up.”

Ncoy waited until they settled to take off, pushing the throttle levers forward and watching the awe on their face as the stars disappeared and the absolute darkness of plus-lightspeed enveloped the cockpit. “First time in the void?”

“Yeah,” They whispered, almost as if afraid to disturb the void, “I didn’t know anything could be this dark.”

Ncoy leaned back in her seat, carefully putting her feet on the control panel, “It’s really something, isn’t it? I couldn’t hope to count how many times I’ve been in this void,” she gestured broadly at the blank windows, “but it never fails to amaze me.”

“It’s, peaceful, in a way.”

She nodded deeply, “It is.”

After a moment, Ncoy said, “It’ll probably be a few days. This thing’s a fuel demon, but not that bad.”

“Does that mean we’re just going south?”

“Yeah. I think I’ll drop you on Cdhkh.”

“Cd-what?”

“I know, the name’s a bit much, but it’s a nice place. No imperial or republic presence, lots of farms. You’ll find a farm family to take you in, easy.”

“Sounds good to me, even if I’ll have to learn to say that mess of a name.”

The next day flew past. Ncoy showed Kid around the ship let them see the cargo hold with the runner, the engine compartment under the floor, and the galley. They sat in the cockpit again, trading stories, of which Kid had a surprising amount of.

“...Then i had to sit next to this murderer for what felt like hours while I waited for the cops to come back. It was ridiculous, I’m telling you.”

They nodded, “Reminds me of the time I witnesssed a murder and no one believed me for like a week.”

Ncoy instantly turned to look at them, “You can’t just say that and not tell the story.”

“Alright, so about a year ago, I was loitering in an alley or something, I was trying to get out of my parent’s house, and I see this woman drag this guy into another corner and I heard some banging and yelling and shit, and then it stops. I figured it was time to make like a Yhuro and get the fuck out47, so I leave and go to the police station, where I tell them, and they ain’t believe me, so I leave, and the next day I’m seeing missing person posters. They eventually interviewed me, but I don’t think they ever got her.”

“What was wrong with your planet? That's nuts.”

They huffed and rolled their eyes, “Trust me, everything. It wasn't just my parents that made me want out.”

“Are you sure you aren’t a clone of me?”

“Might be. I think I’d have to be a bit taller for that, though.”

Ncoy laughed, short and without humor, “I hope for your sake you aren’t.”

“I’d love to do this,” They pointed vaguely at everything, “Go where I want, when I want.”

“No, you don't. You’ll get it one day.”

Kid seemed to understand that. Changing the subject, they said, “I’m gonna miss a few things, my cousins, that nice lady at the grocery store who’d spot me a few dollars when I needed it, that guy who let me crash on his couch for a week. The people, really.”

Ncoy nodded, she needed a drink if she’d be getting this deep. “I’ll be back. Want anything from the galley?”

“You got cold tea?”

“Of course I do.”

In the galley, before getting what she wanted out of the cooler, she leaned her head against the cold metal and took a moment to breathe. She saw too much of herself in that kid, she had to remind herself this wasn’t Sayaa, and wasn’t ten years ago. She sighed deeply, trying to stay in the moment.

When she returned with the drinks, the kid was sitting on the runner, knees pulled into their chest, and a faraway look in their eyes. They jumped slightly when noticed her, “I’m sorry, I’ll get off the runner,”  
Ncoy waved off the explanation, “It’s fine, the thing’s made to be sat on.”

She walked over, and leaned on the back legs, handing the tea to them. “Credit for your thoughts?”

“Only if you’re gonna pay up,” They mumbled.

Ncoy chuckled, even if only to encourage them. They continued, “It’s just, I’ve never left the system. I guess I’m nervous.”

They sniffed and rubbed at their eyes and continued, “I don't know why, it’s gonna be better, but, I can’t help it.”

They huffed, and lowered their chin into their folded arms. “I just met you. I shouldn’t be saying this.”

Ncoy shrugged, “I won't tell.”

They took a slow, deep breath, “I took care of myself for years. This shouldn’t be different.”

“Change is always scary, I know. I’ve been there.”

They looked up with big, watery eyes. “You ran too?”

Ncoy couldn’t bring herself to meet their eyes. “I did,” she admitted.

They wiped their eyes, “Got any tips for me?”

“Bold of you to assume I have any idea what I’m doing.”

The kid cracked a small, genuine smile. Ncoy went on, “Take help when it comes, but don’t be too trusting.

“Can you do both?”

“Yeah, if you’re smart about it. If it’s weird, that’s a good way to tell it’s weird.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Trust your instincts kid, they’ll do well by you.”

They took a sip of their tea and sighed deeply. “Thanks for listening.”

She ruffled their close-cropped, red hair. “Happy to help.”

After a long moment, they added, “My name is Karyes, by the way.”

“Nice name.”

“Thanks, I picked it myself.”

Ncoy smiled, “Same, Karyes.”

The rest of the trip went fast, no stops and no issues. When inbound for Cdhkh, Ncoy ducked into the galley, where Karyes often sat on the counter. Ncoy said, “We’re about to land, make sure you’ve got all your stuff.”

They stood with a huff, throwing their backpack on. “Ok.”

Karyes pushed past her, eyes to the floor.

Ncoy flattened herself to the wall, and watched them shuffle to the cockpit. ‘I wonder what’s gotten into them.’

As Ncoy landed, they sat in thick silence, Karyes steaming over something in the jumpseat, Ncoy feeling grateful for the task at hand. While she finished shutting off the ship, Karyes harshly picked up their bag to leave. Although slight, Ncoy noticed them hesitate in the doorway, almost as if to say something. The moment passed as soon as it came.

She walked them out of the ship, a quiet and somber energy radiating from Karyes. As she waited for the gangplank to open, Ncoy asked, “What’s on your mind?”

They stared out at the machinery in front of them, shifting their bag on their shoulder, “I know it’s a pipe dream, but, I want to stay, with you. Go on cool adventures and such.”

“Karyes, it’s not as fun as it seems,” Ncoy gently explained, “It’s a lot of sleepless nights, and getting shot at.”

“I know, I know, but, I can’t help it. I wish this week could last forever.”

“I enjoyed it too. But you deserve better than me, someone who has their shit together, not a clueless bounty hunter and a rustbucket of a ship.”

The gangplank set down with a hiss, casting golden light into the dark ship, revealing the planet’s rolling hills and tall grass, swaying gently in the wind. Karyes said, “I’ll miss you.”

Ncoy swallowed thickly and prepared to wave them goodbye, but suddenly remembered something. She reached out to stop them, “Wait! My comm-code is forty one-ninety eight, you can message me anytime.”

They nodded from the end of the gangplank. “I will. And you’d better pick up.”

“I will! And good luck!” She called back to them.

Ncoy waited for them to disappear over the crest of a hill before shutting the ship again. She returned to the cockpit, her heart weighing heavy in her chest. She had made the best choice for both of them, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt.

  1. A very large, round fruit in the infrared color spectrum, that can regularly weigh over a hundred pounds.
  2. A small, green root vegetable that grows quite deep underground
  3. A yhuro is a type of rock, and in a few central-east languages, the word rhymes with the word ‘to run’



**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That end section gave me the most trouble I've had with any section so far. My other work is being worked on too, but that one is also proving near impossible to wrangle.


	5. Movement 2, Section 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last entry in Movement 2, and is the transition into the middle section! There will be five movements in total. It's a bit short, but half of it I had to rewrite twice, and that took about a million years. As always, I'll disappear for a month or so and return with more after this. Enjoy!
> 
> TW: Suicidal ideation, continued space racism, poverty, dark parts of imperialism

The upper south proved to be problematic. Every crime hotspot had so many hunters that there weren’t enough jobs to go around, and the rare times she managed to pick up something, it never paid enough. There, both the empire and republic fought for control, planets changed hands daily, and the opposing forces more or less agreed war crimes didn’t count there. 

She found herself missing things she never expected to miss. Some of them made sense, like drinking beer that didn’t taste like Bahreen piss and knowing she wouldn’t have to go without essentials, and others didn’t, like how much she missed her old Shiak.

Shiaks were normally pests, little fuzzy creatures that most Sayaauns hunted, and often ate, but when four year old Ncoy stepped on one, and it didn’t even try to run, she kept it. It lived a full Northern year and a half, and stuck with her better than anyone else. 

The next market she stopped at, she found a vendor roasting Shiak and tried to convince him to give her a live one. He at first wouldn’t do it, they both barely spoke Nyan, but after flashing him credits that no pest should be worth, he agreed. 

On the ship, she did a full examination of her new pet, she determined them to be a girl, and still quite young. She was a bit thin and sunburnt, but overall in decent health. She had to delay buying conditioner to get her, but her hair would survive. Ncoy held her in her hands, trying to calm down the poor, trembling creature, and told her, “I think i’ll call you Heppni, for luck. What do you think?”

The name didn’t seem to offend her. Ncoy petted the top of her little head, and mumbled to her, “I’ll take good care of you, I promise. No-one’s gonna eat you now.”

  
  


Once, she went a full month between jobs. Even when the cash flow slowed down, and she had to be smart with money for the first time in her life, she didn’t worry about it, but then, when she had to pick between alcohol and food for Heppni (she bought less food for herself), then she worried. She checked her comms obsessively, hoping for anything to show up, and often ranted to anything that would listen. She wanted to hold out on selling the runner, it had saved her ass a few times before, but unless her luck looked up soon, she would have to.

For once, luck decided to cooperate with her. She received a simple smuggling commission, to haul ‘food and medicine’ from Ieke’wmenif, a Nyan colony, to Rikfid, a Sayaaun colony. She rolled her eyes at the lie, Sayaa treated their colonies well, she had personally seen it. There would be no reason for smuggling, if they told her the truth about the contents. 

She pulled out of lightspeed to see a massive blockade over what appeared to be the main city, at least six Nyan destroyers in orbit. She slowed to a stop just outside their tracking zone, which she thankfully had been forced to memorize, to think about how to handle this latest problem. She mumbled to herself, ‘ _Alright, maybe this is why they hired a smuggler.’_

She carefully weighed her options, the Hawk didn’t have a cloaking device, or any papers to lie her way through, not even fake ones, and even Ncoy knew better than to take on that many destroyers in an old ship with one gun, which left her with one option, make the approach at lightspeed, where she couldn’t be tracked, and cross her fingers. 

Flying at lightspeed without navigation carried massive risks, one flew literally and figuratively blind, because sensors didn’t work at lightspeed either. She learned the technique of it from top-level spy pilots, who told her to calculate the amount of time to her destination down to the millisecond, and time the trip, to keep from overshooting it. Some new spy ships and speed-freighters could do this on autopilot. The Hawk was not among them. 

Ncoy revved the engines up to full power before throwing everything into maximum gear. The ship lurched hard and made some unfamiliar sounds before slamming into lightspeed, but to her knowledge, nothing went wrong. 

She kept her hand on the full reverse lever, and her eyes on the timer, knowing damn well her life depended on them. When the timer hit sixteen seconds, she opened reverse thrust to maximum, and pulled up, not waiting to see what lay in front of her. She missed a civilian cruiser by what felt like inches, if she hadn’t pulled up both ships would be scrap, but most importantly found herself past the blockade, and very much alive. 

At the docks, Ncoy went up to who seemed in charge, a Nyan woman with a uniform and clipboard, and told her the password from the commission, “I hear Rikfid is lovely this time of year.”

She checked her clipboard, and glanced around the port before telling her, “Follow me.”

She took her to a back area, invisible from the main ports, where stacks of crates waited. “Bring your ship over here, I'll get some people to load it up.”

The parking proved tight, but she got it on the ground, and the mentioned people wasted no time loading the crates. Ncoy wanted to talk to the dock-master, and spent the better part of the loading time chasing her around, until she annoyed her enough to snap at Ncoy, “What do you want? I’m busy here!”

“There’s no way I’m getting on that planet, I know Imperial procedure, if there’s a checkpoint, they’ll never let me through, I don't have any I.D”

She sighed exasperatedly and softly hit her head against her clipboard, “Have you looked in the mirror lately? You won’t need it. Now shoo, I’ve got a port to run.”

She pushed past Ncoy, and went right back to directing crates.

After leaving the planet, she set the ship on autopilot, and went to grab the crowbar she once dropped on her foot to pry open a crate. She had to know what they really contained. 

Ncoy sat cross-legged on the floor in the hall, next to a crate. She threaded the bar under the lid and pulled, feeling the short nails pop, one by one. The lid came loose, and she pushed it off, revealing package after package of… medicine.

She dug through the crate, looking for any evidence to prove herself right, but only found more of the same. She opened one with a name she recognized, and that contained exactly what the label claimed. 

Ncoy sat back, defeated and staring at a bottle. She asked it, “These are common medications, why would someone want to smuggle you?”

The trip took less than three hours, before she knew it, she was out of lightspeed, and lining up at the checkpoint. She scanned the rest of the planet, and the scanner pinged with trillions of tiny sensors in the air, if a ship passed through, they would know. When her turn came, she pulled into the waiting area, behind a tall gate with small gunships on either side, and tuned her comms to the frequency listed. She figured she could floor it above or below the gate, but almost certainly would be shot to bits. They had the planet locked down.

Over the comms, a bored-sounding clerk asked in muddled Sayaaun, “State your business.”

In her rolling, Five-Moons accent, she said, “I’m here to visit my brother.”

Five-Moons Sayaaun dialects used more Old Sayaaun words than Standard, and she purposefully used as many nearly archaic words as she could. No colonist would admit not understanding, and she doubted they would teach ancient Sayaaun out that far. 

“Oh, yes ma’am, can you send me some ID please?”

 _‘Shit’,_ she thought, but kept her face calm. “Of course, but it may take a moment, this ship’s computer is a mess.”

She made a show of looking through her computer, even if they couldn’t see her, waiting for the clerk to make their move. The regulations forbid any small talk, but after a minute and a half of ‘looking’, they asked, “Did you hear about the princesses? I only know something happened, not much in terms of news gets down here.”

Her breath caught, but if she learned anything while training to be High General, it was how to bluff. “I’d bet not, this feels like it’s at the southern edge.”

“It’s the southernmost, planet-wide, official colony.”

“I had no idea, you colonists must be brave, particularly to live so deep in savage territory.”

Ncoy could tell the kid was getting impatient, she said, “I’m really sorry about this, I could have sworn it was in this file…”

They hesitated before saying, “How about this, I let you through, and you just promise to behave, alright?” 

She conjured her sweetest possible voice, “Oh, thank you so much, I won’t be any trouble, I swear.” 

She waited until she was long past the checkpoint to celebrate. 

On the ground, after landing without trouble and exactly on time, a thin, cycloptic man greeted her, instantly launching into his thanks, “Thank you deeply smuggler, you’ll never know how much this means to us, we were growing desperate.”

He stood uncomfortably close to her, and when he put his hands up to touch her in what she could only assume was a native greeting, she caught his wrists and pushed his arms away. “Uh, you’re welcome, but why? I mean, who smuggles this stuff?”

The friendly smile on his face faded, “The empire has a choke-hold on the economy, imports, production, everything. The empire jacks the prices out of reach for most folks.” 

Ncoy’s face turned to suspicion, “Now that doesn’t make sense, I know the empire, we- they, don’t starve the colonies.” 

He waved around at nothing in particular, “Go see for yourself, if you’d like.”

She spared a look at her offloading ship, “If i come back and _one_ thing is out of place, you’ll all regret it.”

“I’ll keep my eye on it.”

Out on the streets, she could barely believe her eyes. Imperial troops on every corner, many harassing native passerby, banners on every building, proudly displaying the red and black Sayaaun quindent, signs listing restriction after restriction, it looked far more like the freshly liberated Nyan colonies than a part of the Sayaaun empire, and certainly nothing like the colonies she had visited.

Without warning, a small, skinny and absolutely filthy child skittered out in front of her, so fast she nearly kicked them. They fell back in fear, and Ncoy squatted down to check on them, and upon closer inspection, noticed they were covered in fine, short feathers, characteristic of an Avairan. They scooted away from her, babbling “Please don’t report me, I didn’t mean it!”

She stood, giving them space, “I don’t know what I would report you for.” 

She fished around in her pocket for a credit or two, and upon finding it, flicked it to them. They caught it, and looked at it, then her, suspiciously. Ncoy told them, “It’s a gift, gods know you could use it.” 

When she returned, she checked the Hawk over completely, and surprisingly found not a hair out of place. She stomped off the ship to settle up with the man from earlier, eager to get going. He waited just in front of the gangplank, with a familiar Avairan child wrapped around one of his legs. He handed her a heavy bag, filled to the brim with small denominations of credits, and asked her, “Believe me now?”

She accepted the bag, and without thinking, she blurted out, “Why stay? You could have a better life anywhere.”

He smiled sadly, and ruffled the feathers on the child’s head. “The central universe is my home. Leaving here would be like leaving a piece of my soul, and besides, these empires turn every planet they touch into this, and there’s no escaping them. I guess you wanderer types don’t get it.”

She nodded with a hard glint in her eye. “I guess not.” 

The next job asked her to haul a bail-jumper into the local police, and the next one was similar, and the job after that too. She lost count of how many drunkards she hauled by their collars out of bars, them trying to bribe her with pocket change, screaming obscenities, or trying to fight her off, the latter usually leading to a short fight and more dragging. 

As she approached the first anniversary of the disastrous last week on the Five Moons, Ncoy wanted out, but of course, it wasn’t that simple. The guild she had inadvertently joined, by making a name for herself as a respectable bounty hunter, didn’t allow retirement. Guild heads would place bounties on rouge hunters, she had hauled in a few herself, and she knew the ending wasn’t pretty for them. To escape the guild, she would have to sequester herself on a planet so obscure she may as well be dead, and she couldn’t imagine settling down as a farmer. 

That left one option. 

It certainly would work, she had guns big enough to take down Eksr’mic48 and it wasn’t like she had much to live for anyway. She sat down on her bunk, with her highest-powered handgun cocked and ready, lost in a sandstorm of thoughts. She was practically a ghost already, may as well make it official and finish the final chapter of her short and stormy life. 

Except for Heppni. Ncoy was her entire world, she had done no wrong to anyone, she’d never even bit. She could think of three people she could trust to not eat Heppni, one was dead and the other two were on the other sides of the universe, and she couldn’t leave Heppni to slowly starve to death in the cold, unforgiving depths of space. Heppni didn’t deserve to pay for Ncoy’s mistakes. 

The gods weren't listening, but she made the oath anyway. She swore to stay alive, at least until Heppni didn’t need her anymore. She put the pistol back in the nightstand, stood, stretched, and went to go check her messages. 

Someone had to feed the damn rat. 

A few weeks later, Ncoy found herself in yet another trashy cantina, waiting to threaten yet another bounty hunter. The bar-tender apparently hated him, since as soon as she asked for him and explained why, he invited her to sit down and drink with the regulars. After getting through a few rounds, she accidentally let loose a few words she didn’t intend to, “I’m fuckin’ tired of bounty hunting, all you do is baby-sit the universe’s dumbest people. I thought i would be at least reeling in cash and women to go with it, but no!”

Most of the group snorted in laughter or nodded deeply. One asked, “You ever been as far south as Nyaa?”

She took a swig from her bottle and replied, “No, why?”

“The Nyan army has this program for bounty hunters, join up and they wipe your record. It’s the best way out, at least as far as i know. I was askin’ to see if you had history with ‘em.” 

She leaned over the table and incredulously said, “Me? Nyan army? Are you blind or something? They’d take one look and brand me a spy!”

“In the actual republic, yeah, but in those little deep-south colonies? They don’t give a fuck about anything, more diverse than Core Nyaa, some even have Sayaaun populations.”

One butted in, “Like on Bhaa.”

“Oh yeah, big time southern Sayaaun culture there.” 

She narrowed her eyes, “I’ve never heard of Bhaa.”

They chuckled, “Not surprised. It’s damn near all ocean, rains constantly, and nothing in terms of natural resources. It’s only upside is it’s basically anarchy there, Nyaa doesn’t worry too much about colonies like it.” 

“It’s an outcast’s planet?”

“You could call it that. People from all over the universe move there to start over.” 

“So you’re telling me I could fly my ass to Bhaa, sign up to be cannon fodder and not worry about the Bounty Guild’s maniacs ever again? 

“That’s exactly what I’m sayin’.”

The doorbell jingled, and the bail-jumper she came for walked in, her cue to wrap it up. She tossed a few credits to the bartender and said, “Thanks guys.”

“Anytime, kid. I hope Bhaa does well by yah.”

A year or so ago, she might have tried to trick him into coming quietly, but her patience had long since gone out the proverbial window. While he argued with the bartender, she took a seat at what she’d been told was his usual table, put her feet up, and waited. 

When he noticed her, he said in a disgustingly sweet voice, “Ooo, what do we have here? What a lovely-”

She cut him off by pulling her pistol on him. 

“The Aviluraun government is paying me a nice stack to haul your sorry ass in, so let’s just make this easy, hm?”

He sighed, “Alright, fine, just-, just let me finish this drink first, alright? It cost me like ten credits.”

She set the gun down and said, “I’m a bounty hunter, not a savage. I can wait a few minutes.”

He finished in only a few shots and said, “Alright, let’s get this over with.” 

She cuffed him, and they walked slowly to the Hawk, neither in a rush to get there. If she didn’t need the money, she probably would have just let him go. After a moment of deliberation, she pulled a small, nondescript device out of her pocket and handed it to him. He stared at it questioningly, and Ncoy explained, “It’s a lock pick, press the button on the side and an electric spike pops out. Jam it hard enough into a lock and it’ll open it right up.”

He pocketed it, but continued looking suspicious. “Thanks, but why?” 

“I’m being paid to turn you in, it’s the client’s job to keep you there.” 

  1. A massive game animal that could reach sixteen feet in height and five thousand pounds in weight.



**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the LGBT tags aren't throwaways, I promise. The lesbianism is on it's way.


	6. Movement Three, Section 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Guns  
> And now we’re headed into the longest section. I changed the overall chapter count, because if I uploaded it in the sections I originally planned, This chapter would be probably 15k words long and take even longer than updates normally do. Enjoy!
> 
> I would also like to offer an advance apology to any military people reading, Reddit and the U.S Army website can only do so much for accuracy

Back on the Hawk, she punched in the coordinates for Bhaa, which turned out to be barely a day’s travel away, assuming she traveled at top speed. Ncoy pushed the throttle sticks as far forward as they would go, urging the ship faster. She stared ahead into the absolute darkness, her tail nearly twitching in anticipation. Her mind raced, thinking of everything that could go wrong, and preparing for the greatest act of bullshitting of her life.   
She eventually fell asleep, since the characteristic jolt of slowing from lightspeed woke her with a start. She stared at the system, seemingly new and late generation, with two, small, red stars and three planets, all with atmospheres that shone lightly gold. She checked the readings on Bhaa, ninety-nine percent covered in a slightly acidic water variant, with one area of population density, and an unusual atmosphere, full of heavy elements, that only a handful of races could breathe, Nyans and Sayaauns among the short list.  
While pulling in, she received a radio call, saying, “Unidentified model freighter, state your planet of origin and business with Bhaa.”  
“I honestly don't know the name of the planet I'm coming from, it's like a day north of here, and I’ve come for the Nyan army’s… program? For ex-bounty hunters.”   
“I’m not supposed to say this, but you probably go to Nyaa for that. Our military base is pretty small here.”  
“Yeah, uh, I’ll take my chances here.”

The line went quiet for a moment, and they replied, “Suit yourself, I’m sending the codes now, and I’ll give the Nyans a heads up. What’s your name?”  
“Ncoy.”  
From the other end of the line, she barely heard them whisper, “Oh.”  
The coordinates pinged in the computer, and she said, “Alright, got ‘em. Thanks.”  
In the building, despite the overcast skies, was stiflingly hot, with low ceilings and packed full of people who appeared to want to be anywhere but there. She approached the clerk in the center of the room, who barely looked up from their task. She politely began, “Hello, um, I’m Ncoy, I’m here for…”  
She trailed off, rocking nervously back and forth. The clerk still didn’t look at her, just snapped their gum and pointed lazily behind them, “Yeah, they’re ready for you, first door on the left.”  
She nodded quickly and made her way to the back, gently pushing through the sweaty crowd to the referenced hallway. They seemed deserted, with bare walls and flickering, noisy lights. At the door, she took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing heart, and wrapped her twitchy tail tightly around her waist.  
Inside, a man in army garb sat under a dim, single lightbulb, hands folded politely over a folding table. He gestured to the open seat across from him, and she sat. She stifled her urge to fidget, and asked, “I mean no disrespect sir, but can you even see in this lighting?”  
He didn’t react to the joke.   
She took a calming breath and sat.   
He began, “Do you have any identification whatsoever?”  
She shook her head, “Nothing, other than maybe some Bounty Guild records.”  
He tapped something into his holo-pad, “And what is your name?”  
“Ncoy.”  
He started typing, then stopped. “Spell it for me please.”  
“N-C-O-Y, sir.”  
“Any additional names?”  
Ncoy lost the right to use the Afhimni name when she abandoned her title, without thinking, she told him, “Gythyadottir, for my family name.”   
He must have not understood the significance, since he wrote it down without question. “Do you have any special skills?”  
“I used to run track,” she offered, “and I went to a military academy.”  
By military academy, she meant the extensive and specialized training she went through as a child, much of it for her role as High General.  
“A bounty hunter, went to an academy.” He questioned.  
She swallowed dryly, regretting ever saying anything. “Yeah, uh, way, way up north.”  
He asked slowly, “Was it Imperial?”   
“It was, but not run by the government, just, just styled after it.”  
“I’m surprised you could afford attending an academy.”  
Her leg started bouncing again, “I had a, let’s just say falling out, with my parents, but they were rich when I was a kid.”  
‘Now that’s the understatement of the millenia,’ She thought to herself.   
“Did you serve in the Imperial Forces?”  
“No.”  
“You know it’s illegal to lie in one of these interviews, right?”   
“I know. I didn’t serve. I didn’t even graduate.   
Saying she never served was technically true, she graduated a northern week before she got married, and left Sayaa less than a month later. She never fully became High General, and now, never would.   
He typed a few more things in, and stood, Ncoy hurrying to her feet to follow him. “We’ll be running a background check on you, but I think you’ll be accepted. With no solid documentation, you’re not eligible for much more than infantry, but even that pays pretty well. You’ll make a good living doing it. Go to the clerk up front and they’ll give you your enlistment bonus.”  
He offered his hand to her, and she shook it.   
“Thank you for your commitment to the Nyan Army.”  
She had to argue with the clerk to get the bonus, not having a bank account didn’t help her case, but soon enough, she returned to the Hawk with Nyan Valoras in hand. Ncoy figured if she was enlisting, she would be on Bhaa for the long run, and if she was in for a long time, she might as well get to know the place.   
Ncoy set out walking, interested in what the city had to offer. The Nyan office and ship lot were on the outskirts, and at least from a distance, it looked like any other universal-age major city. The sky was grey and heavy with dark clouds, and a cool, damp wind tugged at her hair and jacket. In the streets, the wind only picked up in strength, the tall buildings around her seemingly funneling it, just like the outer districts in Styarnah. The flat streets had more loose paper than pedestrians, which fluttered along in the wind.   
As she neared the inner areas of the city, the streets and buildings got older, changing from bland skyscrapers and flat, terraformed land to hills, a novelty to Ncoy, and buildings made from thousands of large, stone blocks. None of the stone buildings were over four stories, not as far as she could see, and many were painted. Some were solid, bright colors, some large murals, and others tiny, complex scenes on single stones. She continued onward until she reached a central area, protected by buildings on all sides, that seemed to be an open air market with a fountain in the center. Each of the stalls had a multicolored cover stretched over the top, and the sellers and their wares hailed from all over the universe.   
The fountain was on the center of a grassy hill, where people picnicked and performed charming acts. She sat in the grass next to the fountain, enjoying how incredibly plush it felt, and staring down at the bustling scene below, watching the day go by. The cool wind soothed her, it didn’t bite like Sayaa’s, and brought a bit of moisture to her face. She checked the fountain, to see if it had come from there, but the wind blew the other direction. She dismissed it, looking back to the market, and noticed that all of the stall covers had gone up.   
Ncoy realized what it meant, but not before a massive wave of rain fell to the ground, near instantly soaking her to the bone. She tipped her face up to the sky, keeping her eyes shut tight, and soaked in the experience like she would never feel it again. No other planet she had visited had been this alive, thrumming with healthy nature and people. She thought to herself, “Thank you, bar man.”  
All too soon, the rain stopped and the sunlight faded, calling her back to the Hawk for the night. She pushed her dripping wet hair out of her face, and straightened her jacket as she stood, taking one last survey of the scene. Walking back, she couldn’t resist kicking puddles, still enchanted with the rain.  
She rented a space in a ship lot to park the Hawk in, locked everything and packed for basic training. About halfway through, she remembered her oath, she would need to do something with Heppni.   
The next day, sitting on the passenger shuttle bound for basic training, she sat in the back, far from other recruits, and curled her bag into her lap. She opened it, peaking in on Heppni just long enough to ensure she was alright, before zipping it shut again. Ncoy didn’t know what exactly she would do with Heppni, but she knew she could find something.   
Getting off the transport, a group of uniformed men scanned everyone for disease, handed them uniforms and directed them to the barracks to get changed and set their belongings aside. Ncoy did not feel comfortable changing in front of a group, she rushed through hiding Heppni under her bunk, thankfully in the corner, and getting into her uniform, grey jacket over work pants of the same color and a white tank top. She buttoned the jacket all the way to her throat, tucked her brand new and shiny dog tags in, and smoothed her braid, in an effort to keep the sergeant off her back. She could only hope they wouldn’t make her cut it off.   
The suns glared overhead as she stepped into line, near the more serious looking recruits at one end. She stood perfectly straight, head forward and hands clasped behind her back, just like she saw Sayaaun soldiers do. The other end of the line, however, did not seem to be taking the hint.  
Someone new, a sergeant, if her memory of Nyan rank symbols served, appeared, sizing up the wavy and out of order line, shaking his head the entire way. He was native Nyan, unsurprisingly, short and stocky, with his curly hair and beard close-cropped and shot with grey. He stopped in the middle, making everyone who wasn't already doing so snap to attention.   
He said, “Welcome to the Nyan army. I see some of you already know how this works, but don’t worry, the advantage won’t last. In eight weeks, all of you will be ready for combat or advanced training. Before we get started for real, we need to find out just how clueless you all are. We will begin with a two mile run, by the end of training, you will need to finish it in sixteen minutes at least. Be back here ready to run in five. Dismissed.”  
A handful took off running for the barracks, while the smarter ones hung back, waiting for the rush to clear. Inside, she pulled off the jacket, threw on running shoes and grabbed her sunglasses, watching a few poor fools rush to change their entire outfit. She smiled, the hustle reminding her of earlier days, getting underfoot of older students at the academy back on Sayaa, doing runs not unlike this one with her cross-country team.  
She made the deadline easily, giving her time to stand and take the camp in. The buildings were built in a U-shape, with the barracks on one side, what she assumed was storage on the other, and probably the mess hall making up the back, surrounding a large, packed dirt center, which seemed to be for inspections and exercise.   
Most of the officers were native Nyan, not a surprise, Nyans were the second most populous sentient race and prolific colonizers, however, the few who weren’t were a diverse group, not even all bipedal. As the rest of the recruits rejoined the group outside, she noticed they were largely Nyan men, with only a handful of other genders and races scattered among them. Ncoy, along with the rest of the recruits, quickly noticed she was one of the only members of a northern race around, and certainly the only Sayaaun.   
In the run, Ncoy set a quick but sustainable pace, faster than most of the pack had chosen, save for one man. He had what looked like short reddish-orange fur all over, and a shoulder-length, thick mane of red and gold, and nearly invisible whiskers sticking out from his face. He was determined to keep pace with her, eventually moving into talking distance and calling to her, “Hello there! I’m Maar, what’s your name?”  
She didn’t really want to talk to him, but knew better than to risk making enemies, “I’m Ncoy, nice to meet you.”   
“Nice day to run, eh? I’d put good money on you being a runner too.”  
“How’d you guess?”  
“You didn’t go bitching when the sergeant announced it!”  
She barked out a short laugh, “You’ve got me there, I ran track in school, how about you?”  
“Back home, I used to hunt Katari with my cousins. Those fuckers are fast.”  
“The hell is a Katari?”  
“Oh, you must be new-new, they’re these long, hairy native things with no legs and too goddamn many teeth. One got my Uthrunku kitten when I was a kid.”  
She stared blankly at him.  
“You probably have no idea what that is either.”  
“I’m sure I’ll find out eventually.”  
“You will, they get into food stores sometimes, that is if the Ukush don’t get there first.”  
“How do you even remember so many names?”   
“A small price to pay for a living planet.”  
Maar talked the rest of the run, never running out of things to comment on, even running at their speed. They finished in the top ten, at fifteen minutes. When the timekeeper told them, she felt deflated, back home, she could have done it in half the time.  
Most of the recruits hadn’t come back yet, giving them a chance to rest, if only for a little while. Maar took a spot in the shaded grass, while Ncoy went to go shower, figuring she could beat the rush and fully wash her hair if she hurried. When fully brushed and unbraided, it neared her ankles, which in water showers made her take forever. In the days before energy showers and eradication of hair parasites, soldiers had to shave their heads. Just thinking of it made her grateful for modern technology.   
That week and the next focused on running, with the next two focused on hand-to-hand combat. They marked off a circle and set up a roster of which recruits were going to face which. Before beginning, sergeant Tarkath addressed the hesitant crowd, “I see you all looking at me like I’m a fool, but listen up, no matter what you see on the holo-web, most operations these days are conducted in small groups, and you will need to know how to defend yourself hand-to-hand. Relying on your guns too much is a surefire way to get captured or killed. Like usual, we need to know if you lot can fight or not, and what better way to test it than on each other?”  
They didn’t divide by weight, so unless one got knocked out early, Maar and Ncoy would fight each other. The recruits had split up into groups, standing around the yard and preparing for the long day ahead. Ncoy sat on a bench, taping her knuckles when Maar came to tell her, “Since, we’re friends, I’ll go easy on you if you go easy on me.”  
She scoffed, “What, you think you can’t win? No deal.”  
“I’ll kick your ass.”  
“I’ll decide that one.”  
Ncoy’s first two fights went fast, both good fights with capable opponents, but she had been trained by the best martial artists in the north since she was a child, a side effect of being royalty. Upon leaving, she was three northern months from achieving the highest level in Ves-Bardagi. The style heavily emphasised planning and resourcefulness, and was popular among the upper classes. She could only imagine what her teachers would say if they saw her using it in a brawl ring.   
Her third opponent would be Maar. As they shook hands in the ring, Maar whispered to her, “Can you at least not pull my hair?”  
Normally, one of her first moves would be to get a solid handful of that thick, red hair and pull him to the ground by it, but she was barely halfway through and already had a headache from the other two ripping at her braid. “As long as you won’t pull mine.”   
He nodded, and the bell to start the fight rang. She had the arena sized up from the previous fights, and began forming her plan of attack. Maar didn’t instantly throw himself at her, which to her meant he had training of his own. He was slightly shorter than her, and not too heavy. Ncoy preferred to take into account species differences, but his was still a wild card.   
He charged at her, so fast she barely saw it coming, and side-stepped him by a hair’s breadth. He stopped and turned unnaturally fast, twisting his back at an angle she couldn’t hope to replicate. She used the opportunity to push him off balance, he stumbled but didn't fall, which gave her the opening she needed to score a strong hook across his face. He fell back, Ncoy following to ensure it. Maar landed on his back, kicking Ncoy square in her knee. It gave out as soon as she stepped down, letting him leap back to his feet.   
Maar knelt down beside her, one knee on her stomach, firm but not crushing, and holding her arms down. He commanded, “Yield. You’re dead.”  
She had to fight to keep the grin off her face, “Not yet.” Ncoy folded her leg in and pulled it sideways, turned her knee and kicked Maar off, a move impossible for most bipedal species. The kick could have been stronger, but served it purpose. Maar was too slow getting up, giving her enough time to hold him down, knee on his chest and hand around his throat, being careful not to squeeze. He thrashed about, Ncoy barely keeping her grip, until he seemed to realize she would not let up. Winded, he said, “I yield.”  
She released him and offered her hand to help him up, which he accepted with a smile. They stepped out of the ring together, and sat on a bench to catch their breath and watch the next fights. Ncoy said, “Not gonna lie, you almost had me there. If the kick didn’t work, I would’ve yielded.”  
“Thanks, but how? Last I checked, legs shouldn’t work like that.”  
“What, this?” She asked as she demonstrated.  
He wrinkled his nose in disgust, “Yeah, that. You can stop now.”   
“Sayaauns have extra space in our joints. Gives us extra range.”  
He shook his head, “That is not natural.”  
“You’re one to talk, that turn wasn’t natural either.”   
“I hoped you wouldn’t notice. Native Bhaa’an’s bottom ribs fold in to turn farther.”  
Ncoy gestured in fake anger, “See? You have special bones too.”   
The bell rang, signalling the end of a fight. Ncoy stood and brushed her pants off, “Well, that’s my cue. Wanna come watch?”  
She offered her hand, and as she pulled him up, he said, “Of course, but you’d better win. Otherwise I’ll look bad.”  
She had one more fight to finish, and if she won, she would earn top marks in the test, making her next two weeks easier. The winners of each group had less training scheduled, and the bragging rights, as a reward for their skill.   
While walking into the ring, she could see why the last fighter had made it to their group’s finale, he was built like a brick wall and towered over her. While forming her plan, she noticed he hid a second pair of arms behind his back, which he no doubt planned to surprise her with. She recalled a fighting lesson from her childhood, how to handle extra-limbed opponents, from a trip to an uncooperative colony. As the sergeant stepped out and they prepared, she thought, ‘I can take him.’  
Ncoy dropped into a ready stance, tightly pulling her limbs in and wrapping her tail tighter around her waist. If he got a hold of her, the fight would end quickly. He ran at her the moment the bell rang, forcing her to drop low. He proved fast and aggressive, but not as agile as her. She updated her plan as she went, dodging every attack and staying silent, keeping her face impassive. If she taunted him, he could figure out her plan to frustrate him and counter it. She needed him to get off his rhythm and unfocused for her plan to work.  
She continued her passionless defense, letting him stew in his anger, watching gaps in his form appear as she frustrated him. She ducked a furious, full-weight punch to hurry for the other side of the ring. As she expected, he stamped his feet and shouted, “Do something! Fight me, you fucking pussy!”  
She said nothing, only giving him a confident smirk.   
That got the reaction she wanted. He roared and changed at her, blind with rage. When he got close enough, Ncoy slipped behind him and kicked him down. She gathered up all of his arms, painfully wrenching them straight up and stepping on the back of his head to hold it in the dirt. He struggled fiercely, but Ncoy did not relent. She yelled at the sergeant, “Ring the damn bell! He’s lost and won’t yield!”   
The sergeant waited a moment, to see if he could somehow rally and get loose, but when he didn’t, he rang the bell. As soon as Ncoy released him, he scrambled to his feet, and stared at her, looking inches from throwing a punch. She met his gaze with equal strength, arms crossed, “You wouldn’t dare.”  
Still seething, he wisely backed down. 

The night in the mess hall, she got more attention than she expected, or really wanted, positive and negative. She sat with Maar, pretending not to notice people staring or hear their comments. Maar must have had above universal average hearing as well, since when someone on the other side of the room accused her of cheating in the last fight, he whipped his head around to see who said it. He leaned in close to her and whispered, “Someone’s popular.”   
She gave him her ‘no shit’ face, and before Maar could say something clever, she noticed the four-armed finalist approaching them. He clamped his hand on her shoulder, the unexpected touch making her freeze. He said, “ That was quite the fight, if you could even call it that.”  
Over the shock, she replied, “It sure was, I got to practice my dodging and you got your arms stretched. Win-win.”   
Maar snorted, and the man leaned in, grip tightening, “You only won because I fight with honor.”  
“That’ll sure help you on the battlefield, enemy combatants always fight with honor,” she replied, voice dripping with sarcasm.   
“Pussy, you knew you couldn’t win openly, you just hid behind your tricks.”   
“I’ll remember that when they drag your corpse home, frrutun.”  
Maar’s eyes flew open, and the four-armed man stomped away in a childish huff. Maar said, voice cracking with laughter, “I can’t believe he didn’t deck you for it.”   
Leaning back on the table, Ncoy replied, “Honestly, I wouldn’t have blamed him if he did.” 

The next two week’s subject was firearms and shooting, testing who could shoot and who couldn’t. As the officers sorted the recruits into groups, she noticed they put all the bounty hunters in one group, and Maar was among them. While the group stood together, waiting for the sergeant to make his announcements, she stood next to him and said, “I had no idea you were a bounty hunter.”  
“I wasn’t,’ he replied, “Bhaa’an honor guard, we were supposed to protect our elders and temples.”   
Just as Ncoy went to question him more, the sergeant started. “As you’ve all hopefully noticed by now, you are all advanced recruits, you’re former criminals, professional hunters, and paramilitary. We’ve separated you from the idiots who don’t know the stock from the muzzle, as to not waste all of our time. Fair warning, the expectations will be higher for you lot, so be ready.”   
They were taken to a shooting range, lined up at the booths and were handed standard looking military rifles,something Ncoy knew all about in theory, but had only shot one once or twice. Turning it over in her hands, she wasn’t sure she’d ever shot anything in that caliber before. As the sergeant shouted to shoulder their weapons, she remembered she hadn’t fired a shot since she was a beginner bounty hunter. He called to fire, Ncoy obliged with the rest of the group, and promptly missed eight out of ten shots.   
He shouted the group through four more rounds, and although Ncoy’s skills were returning, by the end, she was still only hitting four out of ten shots. The sergeant called cold range and Ncoy all but threw her gun down, frustrated with herself.   
She poked her head around the divider to check on Maar, and frowned. She counted the bullet holes in his target, most crowded in the center, and came up with fourty-five. That alone would have impressed her, but the bullseye had been shot completely apart, leaving a whole in the center instead. She gave him a sour look and said, “I thought they had auto-aim off.”  
“They do.”  
“How the fuck am I supposed to compete with that?”  
He racked the rifle a final time to clear the last casing, “You’re not.”  
A small crowd began to gather around them, thankfully distracting Maar enough to slip off and be salty elsewhere.   
The rest of the two weeks went fast, she managed to barely skate through accuracy requirements and not attract too much attention. They neared the end of their training, they only had two weeks of training left, focused on simulated combat. The recruits were split into small groups and dropped in the jungle, one in a practice camp and another out loose, armed with stun guns and a goal to either take or defend the fort. They purposefully split the recruits into teams that all knew each other, as most Nyan operations were done by small groups that had worked together for years.   
There were no official leaders, but Ncoy was the only one with a plan, which put her at the forefront of the operation pretty quickly. Out of their team of twenty, Ncoy sent three scouts, Maar, and two others who could navigate the heavy foliage and constant rain, while she considered their options.   
Maar returned with good news, the camp had a fence and lots of buildings, and it was too large to defend effectively. There were no major holes in their defense, but the opposing team was spread thin. “Smart,” She remarked after seeing the guard positioning, “I would have done something similar. If we strike here, we should be able to blaze a path to the center and hold it from there.”  
She pointed at the back of the fort, an area with little visibility of the rest of the camp, while everyone crowded her. She asked, “Everyone know their roles?”   
When she got nineteen yeses back, she said to the group, “Alright, let’s go prove we’re the better recruits.”   
If this were a real operation, Ncoy would have done many things differently, more recon, more troops, not attacking in broad daylight, and most importantly not sending the general, herself, to fight, but it wasn't a real operation. She had to make due with what she had.   
Ncoy halted the troops at the treeline and waved Maar and Zuukh forward. They were her best shots and stand-in snipers. They took aim at the two clueless guards standing behind the chain-link fence, and fired their shots. Maar missed the first, but the second hit true and fast enough to not matter.   
With both guards safely ‘dead’, they advanced, clearing the fence as quietly as possible. They stuck to the shadows, keeping silent, Ncoy made sure of that, as they pushed for the center. She had given them permission to take convenient shots, specifically ‘nothing that will give us away’, and as she heard the occasional, quiet stunblast, it made her smile. They really did listen to her.   
The trip went splendidly, but not suspiciously so. When they reached the innermost building, they stunned everyone on guard, but not fast enough. As soon as they thought they were in the clear, a blaring alarm began to wail. Everyone looked up at once, then to Ncoy, who was already barking out orders. They dragged some of the prop crates that lined the walls to form a barrier, rushing to get it done before the other team descended on them.  
They ended up with less than three minutes, barely enough time to build a rough circle of crates two-high, but they could work with it. The other team flowed in the front and back door, trading shots with Ncoy’s team. They were about even in skill, but being already down five or six guns and being without cover, the odds were strongly in Ncoy’s favor.   
With only one defender left, she stood from behind the barrier and asked, “Do you want to just surrender and save the headache?”  
The defender lowered their gun and said, sounding relieved, “Yes please.”   
Thunder cracked overhead, telling them that their brief reprieve from the rain was ending. Maar said, “We should probably wake the losers before it starts.”   
Ncoy nodded, effectively telling everyone to get going. She walked with them, shaking awake everyone she found. The first drops were beginning as they woke the last of the stragglers, and was in full torrent by the time they got back to the innermost building.   
Inside, the atmosphere became cozy, the soldiers sitting together on crates, turning on flashlights to point at the roof for light, and the steady rain pounding on the roof, she settled right in. Ncoy had grown up around soldiers, and had taken part in many conversations just like this one. More than one person from the opposite team came up to congratulate her on her victory, which she always insisted was a team effort, but it still made her inner General glow with pride.  
About a week later, an officer she didn’t recognize pulled her away after inspection, notably to a low traffic area. They said, “The sargent wants to see you in his office, ASAP.”  
Ncoy felt her heart drop, “Of course. Any idea what it’s about?”  
“Not a clue. I’m just the messenger.”  
“Thanks anyway.”  
She started to the tent, heart hammering in her chest and mind whirring. If they had discovered her true identity, she could be dragged back to Sayaa in a cell at best, and executed at worst. Ncoy could only hope it was about the mock-battle.  
Inside the tent, the sargent had all the shutters drawn, making the room feel even more imposing. He said, “ Ah, Ncoy, please sit.”  
She obeyed, keeping her expression unreadable, “What did you want to speak to me about, sir?”  
He propped his elbows on his desk before continuing, “I’ll get straight to the point, I’ ve had my eye on you since you came into my camp, and you have an unusual skill set for an ex-bounty hunter. You act like an officer, and sure as hell not a Nyan one.”  
Ncoy couldn’t think of a worse thread for him to pull. Mentally scrambling for an answer, she said, “I was an academy dropout, on Sayaa Five.”  
His eyes narrowed “Then shouldn’t you have entered as a defector?”  
“Maybe, but I needed the Bounty Guild off my back more than I needed defector protections. I don’t have any info they’d want anyway.”  
That only served to make him more suspicious. “I’ve talked to some other officers, some want to take you in for questioning, and you’d better give me a really good reason as to why I shouldn't.”  
Ncoy had been trained in resisting interrogation, a tough guy fishing for a promotion wouldn’t get a rise out of her. She replied, “Because you’d be wasting your time. I don’t know anything. If you send me sir, I’ll go, but I know nothing that isn’t common knowledge.”  
His face relaxed ever so slightly. He stood and said, “You may go, but don’t think this is over. We’ll keep our eyes on you.”  
“Of course, sir.”  
She didn’t feel the stress of her narrow encounter until she got back to the barracks. She realized while lying in her bunk, in saving herself from the Bounty Guild, she had unwittingly placed herself in a far worse situation. If she tried to turn tail and run now, she would have the entire universe after her. Ncoy knew she had no choice now, she had locked herself into serving the Nyan Republic, and could only hope they wouldn’t figure her out. She sighed quietly and cursed herself for being so stupid. 

She had about a week left of training, and on a normal morning, was waiting for the beginning of the week announcement after inspection in the main clearing. The sergeant had an odd look on his face as he stepped to address the line, playing with the ring on his finger. He began, “Unfortunately, your training is at an early end. The Nyan government sent out an order to shorten all training programs, they need a lot more soldiers, and fast. Consider this your graduation. You’ll be getting your orders probably within the week, go pack your shit and get ready for the shuttle. Good luck privates, dismissed.”  
The organized line quickly dissolved into chaos. Many of her fellow new privates took a moment to stand and discuss, she didn’t blame them, but Ncoy needed to beat the rush. She arrived to empty barracks, and quickly pulled Heppni’s box from beneath her bunk. She opened it, added a bit more water to her bowl, and gently set the box on the bunk while she haphazardly threw things into her backpack.  
At the shuttle stop, Ncoy spotted Maar’s bright mane and went to stand beside him. When the first of the many ground transports appeared, not either of theirs, she said, “I guess this is goodbye.”  
“Probably so. It was good to meet you, though. And who knows? Maybe we’ll see each other again.”

  
A beat passed, and he asked, “So, uh, what’s in the box?”  
The corner of her lip curled up and she pulled him in close. Ncoy hunched over the box, Maar following, and opened it. He gasped quietly, hands rising to his face. He asked, “Can I pick it up? It’s so cute.  
“Go ahead, she loves it.”  
He gathered Heppni in his hands, face bright with joy, Heppni squeaked, and his smile widened further. Ncoy said, “Her name is Heppni, and I’ve had her about six months.”  
“You’ve had her for all basic?”  
“Yep. In a box under my bunk. I couldn’t just hand her off to some random fucker, they’d eat her.”  
“Yeah, I wouldn’t trust just anyone with her.”  
The shuttle horn beeped. Maar set Heppni back in her box, and opened his arms for a hug. Ncoy obliged, and when they seperated, she said, “Be blessed my friend, I hope we meet again.”  
“As do I.”  
With that, they parted for their respective transports.  
After the ride, she stopped by the Hawk to pick up her valoras and drop off her backpack and Heppni. Ncoy figured she would be on Bhaa for a while now, maybe permanently, and didn’t want to spend it living in the Hawk. She counted up her enlistment bonus, pay from Basic, and the spare credits from her last bounty job, hoping it would be enough for a place to live.   
Ncoy knew exactly nothing about buying a house, but a few hours and a suspicious lack of paperwork later, she officially had an apartment to call her own.   
The lock stuck, which was fun to juggle while carrying almost everything she owned. The door swung open with a squeak, and she surveyed the place. There was one main room, with a kitchen and enough space for a couch and a wall screen, if she wanted one, with a barren bedroom and a beat-up bathroom next to it. She checked all the appliances, and everything worked well enough. There were a few broken lights and the back burners didn’t work, but nothing terrible. She took the runner to steal the mattresses from the Hawk, the two from the bunk bed in the ship to sleep on, at least until she bought a new one.   
After getting everything set up, she sat cross-legged on the floor next to Heppni, and asked her, “So, Elska, what do you think? Like this better than the Hawk?”  
Heppni’s cute little squeak was anwer enough.  
Ncoy spent the next week furnishing her space, making constant trips to the Hawk and the market. She hauled the Hawk mattresses into the living room and stacked them on top of each other for a makeshift couch, since there was no way she was getting a couch home with the runner. She picked up a larger mattress, which she felt ridiculous transporting, and a likely stolen communicator. The vendor refused to say where they got it from, and had far too many used comms to be normal, but Ncoy didn’t care. She chose a circular one with plastic carry bars around it that fit almost perfectly in her palm. It had a holoprojector in it, and most importantly worked on Imperial and Nyan channels, with an area to add another receiver. She didn’t have anyone to contact yet, but she didn’t want to be caught without one.  
She reported her new address to the army, and sure enough, on the seventh day in her house, she got a letter of summons, an actual piece of paper, telling her to be ready to leave by the next morning.


	7. Movement Three, Section Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Blood, knives, sexual situations (no sex)
> 
> And now, we begin the first deployment, and get to meet The Boys. Thanks to the one person who commented, you're a real one. As always, enjoy!

At four hundred hours sharp, she stood outside her building, uniform on, waiting for the shuttle. Online, she had heard to pack things like energy drinks and gum, so she sipped an odd-tasting one while she waited by the road. Runners of all types flew past her, kicking up a hot wind for the predawn morning. The headlights reflected on her can and into her eyes, which combined with the road noise, was giving her a headache.

A transport stopped in front of her, the same model as the ones from basic training, and swung open it’s doors for her with a hiss. She made her way through the dimly lit aisle to the back, where she sat in the window seat of the first empty row she found. The doors shut and the transport lurched forward, while she gently placed her backpack on the seat next to her. Ncoy looked around a moment, and after confirming everyone nearby was asleep or on their comm, she opened the bag, and the box inside. Heppni was coming again, since she still had no one to watch her. The Shiak seemed fine, so she shut the box and settled in for a short nap.

Just after dawn, about six hundred hours by the timekeeper on her comm, the transport arrived at the Ropoa space docks. It took them past the yachts and the full-size cargo ships to the government section. There, a large, pill-shaped ship an awful shade of brown waited for them, it’s rounded nose pointed up to space, with half of it hidden in the ground. Her time with Naval officers taught her why ships above a certain class took off from below ground, because taking off normally, with the nose horizontal, required more power, and because the thrusters had a tendency to blow away anything that wasn’t tied down. Vertical, in-ground takeoffs solved both issues at once. 

Inside, Ncoy queued up in a long line of her fellow cannon-fodder, waiting to be checked in. At the front, a gruff, Nyan receptionist said, “Name?”

“Ncoy Gythadottir, G-Y-T-”

She cut her off, “This is to get into your dorm, the number is in the top left. Stay there during takeoff.”

Ncoy accepted the small, plastic card jammed at her, and made her way to the sleeping deck. She found the room with fair ease, and opened the door to a familiar face. 

Maar pulled her into a hug before she got all the way in the door. She patted him on the back, “You fucker, I can’t believe it.”

“Me neither, with you that makes most of our class.”

She looked around him at the two other guys sitting on the bunks, a skinny Nyan man with a buzzcut, and a stocky, blue-skinned man, a Jarrrh, with long blue-black hair , and covered head to toe in black markings, tattoos or natural, she couldn’t tell.

The Nyan man stood and offered his hand, rising to a fair amount taller than Ncoy, and said, “Im Tayz, and he’s Neghk.”

She accepted the handshake, “Nice to meet you.”

He tilted his head, “As with you.”

Shooting a look at Maar, she said, “It’s nice to meet someone else with manners down here.” 

His lip crept up in a slight grin, “Well, I’m new down here, so I’m sure it won’t last.” 

That got a smile or quiet laugh out of everyone. The blue-skinned man, Neghk, began to climb the ladder on the left bunk, unnoticed by the other two guys, who were grilling each other on Kicci, a Nyan sport Ncoy knew nothing about. She challenged, “Are we gonna discuss bunks?”

He paused halfway up, “Don’t need to, Tayz and I aren't rookies, and rookies always get bottom.”

Ncoy practically flashed back to the many times Kija complained about that exact rule, apparently it crossed borders. “I guess I can’t argue with that.”

Neghk settled in, “No you can not.”

Over the following weeklong trip, Ncoy attended more meetings than the week three or so years ago, when there was a big invasion scare, a record she never expected to broken. Most of them were on information obvious to anyone with a brain, but a few were useful. She learned they had been assigned for the next nine weeks to a jungle planet called R’wisid, a planet that had been part of the Nyan republic in name only for many years, until the native trees were found to contain Kqiiid. The speaker only said that the chemical was important, but Ncoy knew why, it held laserfire together, and when mixed with some other things, could make a burning gel that stuck to anything. 

The natives were widely unhappy about Nyaa moving in and stripping their forests, but there was little to no serious rebellion. The troops were being brought in as a scare tactic, they weren’t expected to have to fire a shot.

As soon as she stepped off the ship into the camp, Ncoy knew the next three months would be long. Bhaa was a relatively humid planet, but R’wisid made it look like Sayaa. The air felt impossibly thick, and choked with water, like there were no breathable gases in it at all. Maar must have noticed her zoning out, he elbowed her and asked, “Still there?”

“Huh? Oh- yeah, just thinkin’ about the air.”

“Humid, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know how anyone deals with this.”

“I think we’re about to find out.”

The next day, everyone was given ‘personalized briefings’, effectively an email, on how the base worked. It covered routine things, like meal times, and each soldier's duties. The email mentioned a rotating schedule, two weeks of each job, claiming it prevented burnout and raised work quality. Ncoy skimmed through most of it, until she found her assignment, second shift munitions guard. The group compared their assignments, and all had different ones, unusual for the small-group focused Nyan methodology. Ncoy privately wondered if it was an error.

Ncoy reported to the warehouse at fourteen hundred hours sharp, right on time. The camp had an invisible electric fence, which shocked people who lacked a permissions card, which the forest green, semi-permanent building was situated right next to. It appeared to be made entirely out of painted metal, and sat slightly up on small, black supports, which Ncoy knew from experience were small repulsors, to move the building with.

Next to the front door, there was a battered folding table and two equally battered chairs, the same color as the building. Who Ncoy could only assume was the other guard sat in one, with their back to her. There were of some standard race, four limbs, average build and light skin, with a shadow of shaved black hair peeking out from under their standard-issue cap. Ncoy pulled out the other chair to sit and leaned her rifle up against the warehouse. The other guard looked up, they had been shuffling playing cards, and Ncoy got a good look at their face. They seemed to be a woman, a Sayaaun woman, with either a buzzcut or very short hair, with a toothpick hanging out of her mouth. Ncoy struggled to look away from her. She said, gruffly but not angry, “So, do you want to play, or do you plan to stare at me all shift?”

All of Ncoy’s diplomatic training evaporated, leaving her stumbling over her words, “Oh, um, yeah, sorry, I didn’t- yeah, let’s play.”

A small, playful smile curled at the edge of the other woman’s lip, “Don’t worry about it. Know any games?”

“A few, I’m  _ ok  _ at Dogmund.”

Putting the deck back together, she said, “I’ve played a couple a’ times, you might have to remind me of the rules though.”

“No problem, assuming I can remember. It’s been a minute. I’m surprised you’ve even heard of it.”

She began to deal the cards, “Nine?”

“Yep.”

She nodded as she did it, probably counting in her head, “Not too many out here know it. It’s real Sayaaun, right? From the Five Moons?”

The words sounded odd in her soft drawl, Ncoy couldn’t quite place the accent, “Mm-hm. You ever been that far north?”

She shrugged, “Maybe.”

“Oh, so it’s a secret then?”

She flashed a devilish grin, revealing her sharp canines, “Depends on how much I like you.”

The other woman had undersold her skills, while Ncoy was solidly losing for the third round in a row, she had to ask, “So, while you’re kicking my ass, I’d like to know if your name is secret too.” 

She set her hand of cards down, “It’s not, I’m Jiji. You?”

“I’m Ncoy.”

Jiji tested out the name, sounding completely different, and charming, in her unfamiliar accent. Her eyes narrowed, and she asked, “You’re from up north, aren't you?”

In Sayaaun, Ncoy replied, “Oh, maybe.”

Jiji hesitated, looking at her strangely, and for a moment, Ncoy thought she made a mistake, until she responded, in perfect Sayaaun, “I see how it is.”

Ncoy put her hand over her heart, “You had me worried for a second there. Are you from Sayaa too?”

“No, I’m actually from Bhaa.”

“Really? I’m living on Bhaa right now.”

“Deadass?”

Ncoy nodded quickly, “Absolutely.”

A Nyan woman Ncoy didn’t recognize passed, giving them a suspicious look. She internally cringed, and said in Nyan, “Maybe we shouldn’t do that.”

“I guess, it could look a little suspicious.”

Fiddling with a Hichu card, the deck’s lowest, Ncoy said, “I’m surprised they even assigned us together.”

Jiji froze, so slightly that Ncoy barely caught it, “Yeah, me too.”

Having Jiji as her fellow guard made the week fly past, before she knew it, it was almost time to be reassigned. 

One night, at dinner, while sitting with Maar, she asked, “Have you ever seen Jiji around here?”

Looking up with his mouth still full, he replied, “Hmm?”

“My other guard, the other Bhaa’an Sayaaun, remember?”

“Yeah, I’m just trying to remember. I don’t think so,” he scanned the room, “come to think of it, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen her.”

She gave him an inquisitive look, and he continued, “She wasn’t in our Basic class, and this base is almost entirely that class.”

Voice starting to rise with frustration, she said, “Well, maybe she came in with Neghk and Tayz’s group. She couldn’t have come from nowhere.”

Hearing his name, Neghk leaned back from the other side of Maar. She recapped, “It’s nothing, we’re just talking about my guard partner.”

Maar turned to Neghk, “Did a Sayaaun lady named Jiji come down with you and Tayz’s group?”

“Jiji?” He echoed, “No, as far as I know, Ncoy’s the only one.” His gaze fell, thinking, “That’s weird.”

Maar asked, “What is?”

“Her  _ being  _ here is weird.”

Ncoy gave him the ‘seriously?’ look, and he continued, “Not that, you dense fuck, I’m assigned to intelligence, I’ve seen every name in the base, there are no Jijis around.”

The implication hit Ncoy like a sack of bricks. She put her head down on the table as Maar weakly suggested, “Maybe it’s a nickname?”

Ncoy groaned, “No, she’s a fucking Imperial spy, they were already on to me. I’m so beyond fucked.

Maar said, “We should turn her in.”

With the inklings of a plan forming in her mind, she said, “Definitely, but I want to talk to her first, just to be sure.”

Deadpan, Neghk said, “Do you have any idea how suspicious that would look?”

“I know, I know but I have to be sure.”

He shrugged, conceding, “It’s your court martial.”

The next day, the tenth into the rotation, she acted as normally as she could, sitting around, gossiping, continuing to lose at Dogmund, until the very end of the shift. The deck had been reshuffled and put into Jiji’s coat pocket, and the two women had just finished pushing in their chairs and collecting their guns. Jiji had already waved goodbye, but Ncoy stopped her. She caught up, and pulled her in close by the arm. Adopting a dripping tone, she whispered in her ear, “Meet me in the warehouse, twenty-three hundred hours sharp.”

Ncoy released her as she looked at her incredulously, until the shock passed and she replied, “I’ll be there.”

Ncoy went back to her dorm to drop her rifle off, and pick up her secret knife. It was far from regulation, barely four inches long and jagged, but it could kill with ease. It was one of the few things she brought with her from Sayaa, the perfect self-defense tool for a princess. ‘ _ And for a stupid army brat,’  _ she thought as she made her way back to the storehouse, sticking to shadows as she went. 

When she arrived, she hid near the doorway, leaning against the wall, hand resting on the pocket with her knife in it. The door creaked open, letting in a flood of jungle moonlight, as a soft voice called out, “Ncoy?”

She caught her arm and pulled her inside and against the wall, shutting the door with her foot in one smooth motion. She clamped her hand over Jiji’s mouth, until it was clear she was more surprised than anything else, and likely wouldn’t scream. She brought her hand back to hover over the knife, and Jiji wasted no time in running her mouth, “So, I guess this means you’re into that kinky shit, huh? That’s fine, but we should probably set a safeword first, how about, uh, Dorshte, like the restaurant?” She quieted a bit and continued, “Oh fuck, you probably don’t know about that, fuck.”

Seeing Ncoy’s unimpressed glare, she stiffened and continued, “Shit, you found out, didn’t you? Look, we just need the supplies, my crew and I have nothing against Nyaa-”

Ncoy squeezed her arm harder, “Enough with the lies. You’re not helping yourself, spy.”

Her eyes flew open, and she nearly squeaked, “I’m not, I swear! I’m just a pirate, nothing more!”

Her face twisted in pain, “Ah- that  _ really  _ hurts.”

Ncoy loosened her grip, but didn’t release her. She leaned in close, and in her most threatening tone, said, “Give me a good reason why I shouldn’t report you to command right now.”

“You’d miss out on a cute girl?”

Ncoy’s grip tightened, and Jiji continued, “Alright, alright, ah, gods you’re strong, because it wouldn’t help you. They think you’re a spy, right? If you turn me in, I’ll tell them I’m a pirate and you’re the real spy.”

“Are you blackmailing me?”

Jiji tried to shrug, difficult with Ncoy’s vice-like grip, “You are the one who’s got me against the wall like an actionholo.”

Ncoy eased her to the floor, pretending to consider her proposal, while really her mind was made. Jiji rubbed her arms and said, “Don’t worry, I won’t tell if you don't”

“You’d better not, I’m sticking my neck out for you as it is.”

Jiji’s tone turned nearly playful, “Well I guess I’ll just have to owe you one.”

Ncoy jabbed her finger into Jiji’s sternum, “And I fully intend to cash that in.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less. Scout’s honor, I’ll be around, but I guess this means we're not having the fling I was lured with.”

She folded her arms, “No, but if you show up at my door on Bhaa, I’ll think about it.”

Jiji pushed off the crate she had been leaning on, and said, “If that’s all, I guess I’ll be off then.”

A smile tugged at the corner of Ncoy’s mouth, “Drop it.”

“Excuse me?”

“Whatever you just grabbed off the crate, drop it.”

She grinned and held the items up, two boxes of ammunition, “You’re good, real good.”

Jiji turned to leave again, but hesitated, ”If, you ever want a career change, my comms code is fifty-two-eleven-twelve-oh-four. Just in case.”

She pulled her hat back low over her face and walked away, leaving Ncoy in the darkness, watching her go. Ncoy snuck back into her dorm, using her years of experience sneaking in and out of the creaky palace, and as she pulled off her boots, Maar asked, voice thick with sleep, “Hw’d it go?”

Her heart jumped and she froze, until she could remind herself that it was just Maar. She whispered back, “Good, I think.”

The next day, she waited a couple hours into her shift, and eventually made her way to the main services office. They gave her all sorts of grief, but she got her point across. She claimed that Jiji had simply never shown up for her shift, and that Jiji had seemed tired and frustrated. Ncoy said she thought she ‘just up and left”, but didn’t know anything else about it. Eventually, sensing they would get nothing else from her, they sent her back to finish the last two hours of her shift, alone. 

They sent her back to guard the storehouse, now alone, and said if they ever found anything else, they would tell her, which, of course, they never did. 

At the end of the week, everyone received their new assignments, which in Ncoy and her roomates’ case, was to guard the Nyan capital building. The briefing packet said that it was in the Nyan sector of the city, a walled off area for ‘approved Nyan citizens only’, whatever that meant. 

They had to walk to their guard stations, it wasn’t too far, thankfully, but the route took them from the outskirts of Swqela to the very center. They set out right before dawn, wearing more combat gear than strictly necessary, and carrying guns of an equally excessive caliber. They had been specifically asked to, the briefing had more or less said their entire job would be intimidation. 

On the way, Tayz and Maar had taken up an argument over an upcoming Crsyn game. Ncoy knew next to nothing about it, being a southern, working-class game, but as she listened in, gathered the finals were about to start, and they favored opposite teams. She internally shook her head, knowing they would sucker her into watching it with them. 

She watched their route while listening to Tayz and Maar argue, Neghk walking on the opposite side, but doing the same. The outskirts of the city vaguely reminded her of a more run-down Gujaii court, the same crowded, rickety buildings, painted all sorts of colors, and narrow streets. Dirty puddles gathered in the dips in the cobblestone, which she casually tip-toed around. Even after a year, she still wasn’t used to walking in water. Clotheslines hung above, strung window-to-window across the street, casting more shadows over the many passersby. Some native children, green-skinned, standard species with thick, curling horns at their temples, kicked a ball in her path. The group froze for a moment, but Ncoy stopped it with her foot, smiled, and kicked it back, although a terrible shot. The rest of her group had already moved on by the time the kids got it back, so she could only wave and jog off to catch up.

Rather abruptly, the crowded buildings stopped, and gave way to a massive, white concrete wall, with a dark metal gate. She spotted another soldier, a Nyan man with thick, kinky hair peeking out from under his cap. Tayz volunteered to talk to him, and trotted to him, leaving the other three a few feet away. They spoke quietly, in fast Nyan, but Ncoy could make out most of what they said. The unfamiliar man asked, “I.D numbers?”

Tayz listed off all four, and the man appeared to hand him something. He said, “So, what’s it like to be with a bunch of  _ doch’ri’ta _ ?”

Ncoy didn’t understand the last word, her knowledge of slang was still less than ideal, but by the tone and Tayz’s reaction, it didn’t seem like a complement. Tayz said, “ _ They  _ are the best squad I could have hoped for.”

“Calm down man, it’s just a joke.”

After that, they exchanged a few more words even her above-standard hearing couldn’t pick up, and Tayz walked back to the group. He didn’t acknowledge any of his conversation, so when she could, Ncoy hung back with Neghk and asked, “What’s a doch’ri’ta?”

“It’s a slur for non-Nyans, why, is someone calling you that?”

“That guard called us that.”

Neghk threw a dirty look over his shoulder, “Asshole.”

They had four posts, two at the entrance, and one at each end of the street. Maar and Tayz won the Kicci game, which Neghk suggested to prevent the argument, so Ncoy and Neghk took the doorway. They settled in, Neghk pretty much instantly unbuttoning his jacket and taking out a piece of gum. He asked, “How much do you want to bet we’ll get cussed out at least once?”

“Bet? Nothing, I’m sure of it.”

He chuckled as she continued, “But I would take the bet on someone reporting me.”

“Alright, how about this one, someone is gonna send Tayz running over some ‘intruders’.”

“Five Valoras says he does.”

“You’re on.”

The traffic wasn’t too heavy, generally old people who looked disapprovingly at the pair when asked to show ID. Despite lots of side-eye, by noon, Tayz hadn’t come running, or anyone else for that matter. Ncoy’s personal favorite was an overdressed, older woman, wearing evening heels and a dress to a minor government office. She held out her ID before Ncoy was ready for it, so she had to juggle setting down her food, getting up, and actually checking the ID. The Nyan woman had huffed and tapped her feet as Ncoy fished for the scanner, watching her every movement like a drone. Eventually, while the scanner of course refused to scan, she said loudly and clearly, like one would say to a misbehaving child, “Hurry up, you are taking too long. I am very busy.”

The offending technology finally beeped clear and she handed the card back. The woman rolled her eyes and said, addressed to no-one in particular, in the same, overanunciated tone, “They really should have Nyans guarding, do you even understand me?”

Ncoy sat back down, reaching for her lunch, “Yes ma’am, I do.”

The older woman recoiled, eyes widening in surprise. She hustled off before Ncoy could say anything else.

When Neghk got back from his bathroom trip, she jokingly asked, “You took forever in there, are you alright?”

He thumbed behind him, “I feel bad for the next guy.”

Later in the day, when the trickle of people stopped entirely, Ncoy decided she could unbutton her jacket, like Neghk had in the morning. The Jarrrh were a relatively common species, she had found out, native to a few planets in the central south-west, and a longtime member of the Nyan Republic. The locals didn’t seem to trust him as intrinsically as a Native Nyan, but weren’t automatically suspicious of him either. For him to be slightly out of uniform was less of a deal than it was for her. 

She spit in the corner before asking, “Did you bring any gum? My mouth tastes disgusting.”

“I can think of a couple reasons for that.”

“If you say anything stupid, I will end you.”

“I was gonna say stop fucking smoking, I’m almost offended you think so little of me.”

She pointed at the pack in his jacket pocket, “What, like you?”

“ _ I’m _ not the one begging for gum, I can smoke all I want.”

She leaned on the wall, foot up, “Are you gonna give me one or not?”

He sighed good naturedly, and flicked her a gold-wrapped stick, “Just this once, alright?”

Having no intention of keeping it, she promised, “Alright, just this once.”

The rest of the day proved uneventful, only five or so more people came by, and the walk back was quiet, same with dinner and getting ready for lights out. The entire group seemed worn out by the day’s events, and Ncoy could certainly relate. She could barely keep her eyes open as she waited for the other three to go to sleep so she could check on Heppni.

Keeping her in a box under her bunk was far from ideal, but Ncoy didn’t have much of a choice. She checked on her every night, ensuring she had food, water and was otherwise alright. She had Heppni in her hand, gently stroking the top of her head, when Tayz sat up. HE stared at her for a few seconds, before loudly slurring, “Ncoy, wha’s goin’ on?”

She rushed to shush him, but it was already too late. Her bunk shifted as Neghk woke, waking Maar by asking, “Are we bein’ attack’d or somthn’?”

Ncoy raised her finger to her lips, whispering, “No, no, everything is fine, go back to sleep, it’s fine.”

But her reassurance didn’t stop Maar from getting up and turning on the light, much to the complaints of the other three. Once adjusted, all eyes drew to the box in her lap, which she had slammed shut. Tayz asked, “Wha’s with the box?

“It’s, uh, a care package. I didn’t want to share.”

She probably could have passed it off, if Heppni didn’t choose that exact moment to squeak, loudly. Neghk peeked down at her, and asked, “Is, is there something alive in there?”

“No,” she said, far too quickly.

“Bullshit,” Maar said, taking the box from her, ‘this is the Shiak from basic, isn’t it?”

She opened her mouth to protest, but he was already opening it. He set it on the floor, and held Heppni up high enough for Tayz and Neghk to see. Tayz’s eyes flew open in surprise, while Neghk just stared, expression unreadable. Tayz asked, “When were you gonna tell us?”

Ncoy shrugged, “Never got that far, I didn’t want anyone to report me.”

Neghk peeked down again, his long hair hanging further like a dark curtain, “You really thought we would report you for this?”

She looked away, “I didn’t want to chance it.”

Maar had moved her in close to his chest, saying, “I, for one, love her. She is a girl, right?”

“Yeah, as far as I know. Her name is Heppni.”

He nodded, stroking her little head. Tayz reached down to Maar, asking, “Can I hold her?”

“Go ahead, just be gentle.”

They performed the hand-off, more gently than Ncoy thought possible. After a moment, Tayz said, “If you ever can’t take care of her anymore, I’ll take her.”

Neghk scoffed, “Please, I’ll take care of her, I’m the most responsible out of all of you.”

“She’s known me the longest,” Maar turned to Ncoy, who was holding back a smile, “ _ I  _ should get her, just in case.”

The smile was starting to win out, pulling the corner of her lip, “I guess I don’t have to worry about that anymore.”

Maar took her back from Tayz, “Hell no, she’s gonna be our mascot.”

They switched out three days later, Neghk insisting on taking corner guard. Ncoy was still alright with the position, so she just stood back and watched as Tayz lost the Kicci game against Maar, and was deemed the second guard. Out of the three, she so far knew Tayz the least, and wanted to get to know him.

The traffic again proved relatively light, nothing like the minor government offices on Styarnah, or even on Bhaa. Ncoy raised the question, “I wonder why it’s so quiet here.”

Tayz looked at her strangely, “This is quiet? All the DWHLTV’s and tax collectors on Nihue are just like this one.”

Nihue was the capital city of Talesvoa, the largest planet in the Nyan home system, and also the capital of the Nyan Republic. She filed that little detail away in her memory, and said, “Yeah, on Bhaa, shit’s crazy twenty-four-seven.” Ncoy shifted against the wood she leaned on, “What’s a DWHL-whatever?”

“Department of wheeled, hover, leg and tread vehicles. They do licences and such.”

“Now that’s a mouthful.”

He accepted an ID from a civilian, who appeared out of nowhere as far as Ncoy could tell, and replied, “I guess that’s why they have the acronym.”

As the day wore on, it became clear that the civilians were ignoring her. Out of the twenty or so people who stopped by, even when Tayz was busy, no one came up to her. If they thought she didn’t speak Nyan, actively disliked her, or just wanted to talk to Tayz, she couldn’t tell, but either way, they avoided her as if she was poisonous. Ncoy thought she would be relieved by the break from the judgement, but she felt no better. 

Deciding that no one would look her way even if she was naked, started the arduous process of taking off her jacket without taking off her vest. Tayz side-eyed her as she set it in a pile on her chair, and as she smoothed her hair, she said, “What? It’s hot out here.”

“I know that, but we have to keep our jackets on when on duty, it’s in the handbook.”

She did her best not to roll her eyes, “Yes, I know, we’re supposed to ‘maintain proper uniform at all times. It’s fine.”

“What if a superior comes by?”

Ncoy shrugged, “Then they’ll tell me to put it back on, I’ll do it, and that’ll be the end of it. You don’t have to worry.”

“But they could report you, hell, I could technically report you for this.”

She glared at him, only half-playing, “For the sin of bare arms? I bet you used to call the cops on parties.”

He stiffened and looked down at his feet, mumbling, “That was one time, I can’t believe he told you.”

She stared blankly at him, “You  _ did _ ? When? No one told me anything, I was just kidding!”

He shut his eyes tightly and rubbed at his face, “I can’t believe I fell for that,” he took a deep breath, “Alright, the neighbors were having a massive party, and I had to go to my temple in the morning, and they were blasting music in the middle of the night, I just wanted to go to sleep.”

“That’s when you go, knock on their door, and tell them that.”

“It accomplished the same thing.”

She blew some hair out of her face, she had more broken strands now than ever before, “Don’t call the cops on parties man, that’s not right.”

He held his hands up in a ‘what-can-you-do’ gesture, “Too late now, that was years ago.”

“Well don’t do it again.

At the end of their shifts, after folding up the chairs and collecting her things, she said, “Just so you know, I’m gonna hold that against you forever.”

“Thanks for the warning.”

A week of largely the same passed, more standing, more bothering Tayz, and more being ignored. Eventually, she made Maar swap jobs with her, and within a few hours of starting her first shift, she understood why the others liked it so much. Besides answering the rare question, no one bothered her. The residents were clearly used to a guard in that spot, as they ignored her in the same way one would ignore a light post. Ncoy didn’t have to deal with any sharp words, side-eye or rude questions, she got to simply stand and watch the world go by.

Mid-morning on her first shift, she received a surprise, a group of elderly residents who very much wanted to talk to her. They were the only ones so far to even acknowledge her, but they explained that they were a worship group, and had been making friends with the ever-changing guards for a year or two now. They wouldn’t take no for an answer, and also wouldn’t take the apparent rudeness of not smiling, so she had to get used to them in a hurry. 

On the second to last day of guard duty, while ‘shooting the breeze’ with the old folks, as they called it, privately enjoying the town gossip, one of them mentioned something important, “...and real early this morning, I heard this racket around the fence, I’m bettin’ it was those damn green kids.

The group tsk-ed about it, but Ncoy realized the significance. She politely asked, betraying none of the seriousness of her suspicions, “Excuse me, sir? Did you see anyone  _ inside  _ the wall?”

“Sure did, a whole group of those green fuckers right outside my window, although these days they could’ve just been the army.

She ignored the jab and urgently asked, “Sir, could you tell if any of them had horns?”

He hesitated for a moment, made longer by her urgency, “Now that I think about it, they did. Ain’t that odd? I didn’t know they even had ‘em.”

The native’s who worked in Nyan homes and businesses normally filed their horns down, to make them more palatable for their employers, while the anti-occupation, radical factions typically grew theirs long, as a visible act of rebellion. She raised her comm to report the threat, but as soon as she flicked it on, squealing interference erupted from it, making all the elders clap their hands over their ears. She turned the sound down, and waited for the multiple calls to clear. Without warning, the static turned to an authoritative voice, shouting, “All units, there is a three-twenty-seven in progress at the head colonial office. Multiple victims, Nyan and native, and at least four native suspects. Two are confirmed fled and two are unknown.”

She quieted the comm enough to speak over it, and told her group, “Go home and stay there, Report anything suspicious.”

They thankfully did as she said, leaving Ncoy to put her sprinting skills to good use. She skidded to a stop in front of Maar before Neghk was even visible. She asked, “What’s going on?”

Maar ran a hand through his hair, ignoring the snags, “Almost nothing. Four natives went in, and before we know it, there’s screaming and people are running out. There were at least two stabbed, and we were told to guard the front and back doors and wait for backup. Tayz is watching the back.”

“Has anyone gone in yet?”

“No, you’re the first here.”

She glanced at the door, “I’ll do it. Keep me updated.”

He nodded quickly, “I’ll send Neghk after you when he gets here, be safe.”

“You too.”

Inside, she expected the place to look like a bomb had gone off, but save for some scattered papers and a dropped mug, it looked like nothing had happened. Despite that, or maybe because of it, a thick sense of apprehension hung in the air, as if every shadow would produce a knife. Ncoy walked slowly and carefully, sticking close to the walls to muffle her footsteps, checking around every corner before turning. She kept her rifle, which she sorely wished was a larger caliber, ready, her finger hovering on the trigger guard.

The fact she didn’t know the layout didn’t help. Ncoy chose the nearest hallway, resolving to simply go one by one until something happened. The first two cleared, not a soul in them, but the second on the left room of the third hallway had someone inside.

When Ncoy opened the door she heard a small but sharp gasp, and twitched her gun higher. The woman, a native in a maid’s uniform, raised her hands in surrender, eyes wide. Her horns were filed so short they were nearly hidden by her green-black hair. It was risky,she knew it, but Ncoy couldn’t afford to escort her out of the building, and the odds of this woman being the suspect were slim to none. She commanded, “Stay here and hide, and don’t come out until released by Nyan forces, they’ll know to come for you.  _ Do not  _ try to leave before then, all exits are surrounded, and you won’t get far. Understand?”

She nodded nervously.

Holding her hand out placatingly, Ncoy said, “Good, you should be safe here. Now  _ hide _ .”

She shifted out the door, continuing on her task. Ncoy opened door after door, room after room, and one by one, they all turned up empty. She had nearly reached the end of the second floor, with only a few back rooms left, when she opened a door to another native employee. He froze the moment he saw her, staring like a Hreindir in headlights. He wore a blue janitor’s outfit, although his cart was nowhere to be seen, and had a wide-brimmed, tall hat pulled low over his head, hiding his horn area. He was bent double, clutching his side, and taking short gasps of breath.

She tapped the recorder on her belt and asked, “Sir, are you alright? Can you tell me what happened?”

He said, his voice rough and weak, “The fucker stabbed me, one of the workers. Got real close, called me filth an’ slit me.”

She inched closer, but still keeping her distance, “Did you get a decent look at them?”

“ _ Fuck _ , no, I didn’t, are you gonna help me or not? I’m bleedin’ out here.”

She hadn’t seen any blood on his hand, but pulled the first aid kit out of her backpack to help anyway. She moved in close to bandage it, but when he pulled his hand away, there was nothing, not even a rip in his shirt. Before she could pull away, she felt the cool metal of a blade slide into her side, just above her hip, accompanied by the all-too familiar buzz of a serious injury. She grimaced in fake pain and pretended to buckle, as the ‘janitor’ made a break for the door. 

At the last second, she straightened up, and caught him by the collar. The shock of it alone was enough to stop him in his tracks. Ncoy threw him at the wall, full-force, leaving a small hole in the drywall. He lunged wildly at her, waving the knife around, which she dodged with almost no issue. She caught his knife-wielding wrist and twisted it, sending the blade flying across the room. He disregarded it, and lowered his head to tackle her. He slammed her against the wall, but couldn’t stop her from kicking him down. She pointed her rifle right between his eyes, and commanded, “Surrender now, because I won’t hesitate.”

His face twisted, then steeled. In a flurry of motion, he was on his feet, and running for the window. Ncoy lunged at him, but she wasn’t fast enough. He didn’t bother to open the window, ust threw himself through it. For an instant, it seemed he might clear the jump, but some of the broken glass caught at his clothes, twisting him sideways in midair. She followed him to the window, and as soon as she looked down, wished she didn’t. 

Instead of landing on his feet like he probably intended, the snag had twisted him, and he landed on his side instead. Ncoy heard the crunch from all the way up, and watched as he sprawled out, bleeding from where the glass and rocks had cut him, including a massive rock, now a vivid green, close to his head. 

Swallowing a shudder, and more than a few bad memories, she flipped her comm open, “Maar, I found the suspect, but, he, uh, didn’t submit to questioning. He went out a window on the second floor, south side. Might be alive, I can’t tell from here.”

“Alright, Backup’s already here, we’ll get someone out there. You alright?”

She glanced down and the handle sticking out of her side, leaking a little bright-red blood, “I’m fine. I’ve got someone to let out first, but I’ll be right out. Gythadottir out.”

The young woman hadn’t been released yet, and when Ncoy opened the door, she didn’t mention the knife, but stared at it, wide-eyed. Ncoy didn’t say anything either, and they walked out like Ncoy was simply leading her through an unfamiliar hall.

By the time they got out front, the blood loss was starting to make Ncoy feel woozy. Maar and Tayz were waiting for her at the door, and when Maar saw the handle, he nearly shouted, “I thought you said you were fine!”

“It wasn’t bleeding so much yet. Do me a favor and do something with her, she’s probably innocent. Tayz?”

He slid in closer as Maar accepted the woman and left with her, looking overwhelmed. Ncoy continued, “C’mere, let’s go find a medic.”

She slid her arm over him, and they started off. Backup had turned the front lawn and road into a city of white, standard-issue tents, bustling with soldiers, nurses, police, and civilians. Tayz took her to a tent near a gathering of medics, and eased her down on an unoccupied ammo case as he went to talk to them. 

As she sat, she could feel the last of her second wind energy leech from her, leaving the beginnings of an awful comedown taking its place. Ncoy bent her head and slammed her eyes shut, to protect against the sunlight stabbing her brain, as the numbness and buzzing from her side consumed her entire body. She gripped the lid of the case she sat on like a lifeline, as she bore the unnatural sensations rolling though her. The brain operation was far from perfect, with its complexities, it almost always went wrong in some way or another, and the sensations it produced weren’t pleasant, but it had to be better than natural pain. She couldn’t imagine how intense the pain should have been.

Eventually, right as she was about to find a spot to throw up, Tayz returned with a medic. He knelt down beside her, and whispered an unfamiliar curse. He turned to Tayz, gesturing angrily, “You said it barely hit her.”

Tayz leaned in, and saw the drips of blood all down her shirt and pants, and how with the handle length, the blade wasn’t small. He stepped back, blood draining from his face, “She was acting like it wasn’t that serious…”

The medic poked at the wound, moving around her torn clothes and touching at the mostly sealed edges. Head still bowed, she asked in a dark, joking tone “are you gonna pull the damn thing out or jus’ keep fistin’ my side?”

The poor man nearly jumped out of his skin in surprise, “I’m, I’m very sorry I was just checking out how bad the bleeding was. Tayz, can you hand me the, uh, soft-tissue scanner? And the Nothvaxin?”

Ncoy interrupted, “Cancel the Nothvaxin, I don’t need it,” 

They looked at her like she grew a second head. She repeated, “Seriously, I’m refusing it, save it for someone who needs it.”

Tayz began, ‘Ncoy, you’ve already been tough-”

She interrupted him, “Y’all planning to listen sometime? Let’s get going, this thing is poking my organs.”

The medic then seemed to understand she wouldn’t budge. He slapped his knees and again looked to Tayz, “Get me the damn scanner.”

Tayz raised his hands and backed away, taking only a moment to find it and slap it in the medic’s outstretched palm. Ncoy leaned back further and uncurled her tail from around her waist, the knife had missed it by inches, letting it hang limply with her braid over the case. He hovered the small device over her side, the radiation from it feeling nice on the wound, and said, “Your liver is low, is that normal for your people?”

“Where is it?”

“Next to your kidney, it should be above.”

“That’s exactly where it belongs, did you study Sayaaun anatomy at all?”

His eyes widened as he opened and closed his mouth, “Yes, I did, I’ve just never actually, nevermind.”

She gave him the most suspicious look she could manage, “You better not kill me doing this.”

He looked back to the scanner, “Of course not, and besides, everything inside is fine, and all I’ll have to do is stitch you up. Shirt and jacket off, please.”

“Normally, you would buy me a drink first.”

He turned from his preparations to glare at her, but she already had her shirt half-off. When she dropped it on the ground, next to her jacket, she took a moment to see if she could make fun of Tayz, but he, always the gentleman, had already faced the other way. 

Ncoy nearly gasped as the bitter cold sanitizer hit her skin, giving her only a moment to prepare for what came next. He got a good grasp on the knife, as best as he could without shifting it, and paused a moment to ask, “Are you absolutely sure you don't want any painkillers? Not even something to bite down on?”

“Just pull it out.”

He shrugged slightly, and started to pull. The angry buzzing returned in full force as the wound gaped open, hot blood flowing out onto his gloved hands, turning them bright red. He pushed an absorbent cloth to her side and said, “Hold.”

She did as he asked, pressing it hard into her side as he began to stitch her up. She felt the needle move in and out, but the feelings of pressure and blood loss kept her mind off it.

At some point, while Ncoy focused on holding her guts in, Maar had arrived. She watched him stop and take in the scene, and when he noticed her looking, he pretended to check her out, faking a sleazy lick for good measure. Ncoy feigned offense, and spared a slightly bloody hand to flip him off, although not for long. They both laughed, making the medic miss and stab her with the needle. She glared down at him, to which he protested, “Well, if you’d stay still, I’d probably be done by now.”

“If you knew what you’re doing, you’d probably be done.”

He huffed slightly, but Ncoy could hear the laugh behind it.

Before long, Ncoy could pull the bandage away, and watch him finish the last few stitches. He cut the thread after the last knot with a gentle flourish, and said, “You’re all sewn up.”

She looked down at the rough, vertical line, and the black stitches, standing out even against her bloody skin. She said, “I don’t think I’d like to feel that again.”

She gingerly pulled her shirt back on as he watched, almost incredulously. She said, trying to break the silence, “I take it you don’t stitch up too many Sayaauns around here.”

“Yeah, but more so with the nerve-op thing. You just don’t see patients with it, at least the ones from Nyan worlds, obviously. Is it normal for Sayaaun blood to be that bright?”

She ignored the jab, “Yeah, and I can tell. You should’ve seen their faces when I walked out, and I haven’t seen a Taug-shot down here yet.”

“A what?”

Ncoy shook her head, “I don’t know what they’re teaching medics down here. It pretty much resets your nerves, stops complications. Still no?”

“I’ve never heard of them.”

She scrubbed at her face, “Great, and I’m like three shots overdue already.”

“I’ll keep my eye out for ‘em,” He stood and brushed the dirt from his pants, “You’re free to go now, just be careful of the stitches.”

“Oh, I will. I’d like to keep my guts  _ inside  _ my body for a change.”

He snorted, and clapped her on the shoulder, “You do that.”

Tayz helped her up, saying, “You got lucky, our shift ended ten minutes ago.”

Ncoy had entirely forgotten that she was supposed to be working, “Thank the gods. Honestly, imagine getting stabbed and having to go right back to work.”

“I meant that I could walk you back.”

“They’d probably have me moving tents or some shit anyway.”

Tayz forced an awkward laugh, and didn’t respond again. 

Thankfully for her, they managed to hitch a ride back to the barracks with a private on their way for medical supplies. She rode shotgun, with Tayz in the covered bed, without a word the entire way. When they arrived at their room, Maar and Neghk were already inside, sitting on opposite bunks, Heppni’s box next to Maar. Ncoy slapped up with both of them before shooing Neghk out of her spot, as Tayz climbed over the tangle of legs to get to his ladder. Maar said, “You’re looking pretty good for someone who just got sewn up.”

She shrugged playfully, “It was only a knife, no big deal. Besides, didn’t even hurt.”

Neghk gave her his famous ‘that’s brexgshit’ look, until the joke registered, and he started to laugh. “You had that surgery, didn’t you?”

“Sure did.”

Neghk started to say something else, but Maar cut him off, “How was the recovery on that anyway?”

Caught slightly off guard, she said, “It was fine, I guess. There’s no drugs to make you loopy or anything, so you’re back at it next day almost. I did a track meet like, a week after. Why, you thinking about getting it?” 

Maar reclined on his cot, hands behind his head, “Yeah, but I can’t afford anyone who won’t kill me doin’ it. Who was your surgeon?”

The odds anyone would recognize the name of her surgeon, who almost exclusively treated Imperial elites, was slim to none, but Ncoy didn’t want to take the chance, “Oh, I went way up north for it. And he wasn’t cheap.”

Maar sunk into his cot a little more, clearly disappointed, making Ncoy feel irrationally bad. Tayz, from his top bunk, asked, “You know it’s illegal, right?”

Maar made a face at the bottom of Tayz’s cot, “No, I didn’t have the faintest clue.”

Neghk said, “Really, Maar, don’t. It’s so risky, I knew a guy who died on the table. There’s no reason to chance it.”

He held his hand out, in a sweeping gesture to Ncoy, “She’s fine, and besides,  _ I  _ wanna beat people up after getting stabbed.”

All eyes turned to her, and she held her hands up in surrender, “I’m staying out of this one. I had mine at like twelve, though.”

Tayz poked his head down, “What parent lets their preteen get an elective  _ brain surgery _ ?”

“But that’s when it’s safest,” Ncoy protested.

“You know what I mean.”

The room lapsed into awkward silence, everyone staring at each other, broken only by a quiet notification on Neghk’s datapad. Ncoy casually watched as he pulled it off his bunk and read it, just because she preferred it to staring at Tayz. As he read, his eyebrows rose, higher and higher until he looked half-ridiculous. Ncoy asked, “You readin’ porn over there?”

Maar snorted and Tayz rolled his eyes, but Neghk ignored the joke and said, “We’re shipping out tomorrow.”

Maar said, “Last I checked, we had two weeks left.”

“Check your emails, they’re calling in ‘a more specialized team to handle the insurgents’. We’re out of here,” Neghk replied, complete with air-quotes.

Ncoy fished her datapad out from under her bunk, next to Heppni’s box’s usual spot, while Maar did the same. In her neglected inbox, among the two hundred or so other unopened emails, was a new one from command, detailing what Neghk said, almost verbatim. 

The email told the truth, at the crack of dawn the next day, everyone was loaded up and taken to the spaceport. The trip took only a few days, on the Hawk it would have taken twice that long, and through the whole time, she couldn’t get the mystery of Jiji off her mind. The odds of another Bhaa’an Sayaaun ending up at the same camp seemed astronomical. The idea took almost embarrassingly long to register, but she eventually realized Jiji could have truly been a spy, not on the minor Nyan operation, but on  _ her _ , trying to scout the right moment to haul her back to Styarnah. It seemed ridiculous, when did the Empress ever wait for the right moment, but she couldn’t get the worry out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I know this isn't how the military works, but Google and Reddit are only so much help. I have no idea if anyone is actually reading these updates, but, yknow. Originals never get too far here, but I'd rather die than move to Wattpad. I've got a really long Sith Ahsoka chapter and another new fic that just need to be edited. I've been quarantined from school, so I've got a bit more writing time. 
> 
> Blessed be.


	8. Movement 3, Section 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: implied underage, mild sexual comments to minors
> 
> This chapter is a repost, because I tried to use my school laptop, but it wouldn't let me post in rich text, so i had to delete the whole thing and try again. Enjoy

Ncoy, on her first night back on Bhaa, slept nearly sixteen hours. Sayaauns needed more sleep than the standard of eight, about ten hours, and far more than the Nyan six. She tossed and turned for most of it, the safety of her apartment unable to ease her mind. Almost as soon as she woke, around fourteen hundred hours, she knew she had to try to contact her. Ncoy decided to do it in her kitchen, sipping her last soda for comfort, and looking back and forth from her comm to Heppni. She couldn’t help but start to pace as she punched in the code, mentally apologising to her neighbors as it dialed.

Jiji answered on a late ring, voice rough, “If you fuckers call me from some random code one more time, I’m not payin’ shit, and we can take it up with the godsdamned Guild, alright?”

Switching to Sayaaun, Ncoy replied, “I didn’t know you owed me money.”

“Ncoy! I had no idea it was you, I’m so sorry about that, hey, stop laughing at me!”

She couldn’t hold it back, her laugh came out wheezy and strangled into the comm. If Sayaauns physically could blush, they would probably both be bright red by then. Jiji waited for Ncoy to get herself back under control, before asking, still in Sayaaun, “So, uh, what’s up?”

“Not much, I guess, I just got back to Bhaa.”

“Same, actually, Harruun just dropped me off a few hours ago.”

Jiji’s accent soothed the last of her fears, she sounded like a proficient learner, with text-holo formal grammar and the occasional miss on a particularly difficult sound. Her accent was minimal, really an excellent speaker, but Ncoy had spoken to so many beings who learned Sayaaun after Nyan and sounded exactly like that. Sayaaun Intelligence wouldn’t be this subtle with her, as soon as they had her on a comm call, they would trace it and kick down her door, not ask about her day. Ncoy asked, “Who’s Harruun?”

“They’re a member of my crew, they’re from Querlia, and they keep the ship there between jobs half the time.”

Querlia was a system of six planets, all similar size and conditions, almost exactly in the center of the Nyan Republic, populated by tall, purple and occasionally pink skinned beings with antennae and no hair. They were otherwise standard, two legs, two arms, and also among the hundred or so atmospherically adaptable species, which made them fairly common, and spread far throughout the galaxy. 

“So, you’re actually from Bhaa?”

“Yeah…?”

“While running a con, you told me your genuine homeworld?”

“Yeah… uh, I had no idea there was a Bhaa’an squad there, and most people know absolutely nothing about the planet, so it’s normally a safe bet. Besides, pretty women make me act kind of stupid.”

“Well, no wonder you seem so smart.”

Jiji replied brightly, “Thanks.” She paused for a long moment, Ncoy could practically hear the gears turning in her head, “Hey wait a second, that’s not what I meant.”

Ncoy snickered lightly, “I wish I would’ve timed that, it’s gotta be a record for that joke.”

“Alright smartass, what’s this call really about? Are you taking me up on my offer?”

“Depends, if you twist my arm, I’d probably meet you somewhere.”

“Well, since I’m forcing you like this, where and when would you like to go?”

Ncoy bit her lip, “See, uh, I’ve spent probably a week total in this city so far, I don’t even know what’s here, but I’m free anytime”

“In that case, I’ve got some ideas. How about I come pick you up at eighteen-hundred tonight?”

“I’ll see you then.”

As soon as the call beeped over, Ncoy needed to go sit down. The last time she had tried to flirt seriously, and not with much older drunks, was when she was fifteen, and at a party she definitely wasn’t supposed to be at, and trying to tease a boy her age who desperately wanted to be a prince. She had received a lot of unwanted, and often inappropriate attention, as a young princess, and being further from the throne, but still officially royal, made her a major target. Ncoy had a great deal of practice turning down random proposals from people old enough to be her parents, but almost none with trying to impress an equal. Her title always did the impressing for her. 

She went to go plan her outfit, but after looking at her half-bare and battered closet, she knew she had to dig up something better. Even if no longer a princess, as a new member of Bhaa’an society, she couldn’t go on a first date with laser-burnt jeans and a tank top, or any of the edgy outfits she bought after her first few bounties. Checking the clock, which read fourteen-thirty, she pulled the keycard off it’s spot on the table, and went to find herself something presentable. 

Ncoy took the runner across town, she lived near the governmental district, and far from the primarily retail east-side. She had been to department stores before, a couple times on Sayaa behind the Empress’ back, and plenty of times during the last year, but never a formal one. Being well above the average height for standard species, and in quite a few drunk men’s words, built like a board, she knew finding something that fit and flattered would be difficult. 

She hadn’t planned on it being this difficult.

Almost everything she tried on was wrong in some way. Practically nothing had tail snaps in the back, and what did was either frighteningly ugly or a completely wrong size. She tried on what felt like half the store, walking back and forth so often that to outsiders, it probably looked like she was stealing. The short dresses tended to either ride up, or make her look much taller than she wanted, and long dresses looked too much like her royal gowns, or hung on her lean frame. She was about to give up, resort to wearing whatever she had in her closet, when something finally caught her eye. It was a dark blue jumpsuit, with a high neck and no sleeves, and amazingly, space for her tail, and light green flowers embroidered on the flared legs. Ncoy eagerly checked the size, and found it to be exactly hers, even labeled ‘tall’. 

It fit almost perfectly, as good as anything right off the rack would. The legs were wide enough to be comfortable on her muscular thighs, and showed off the strong arms she had worked so hard for. It even had pockets. She gave it a spin, and knew it would be coming back with her. 

Ncoy finished her makeup quicker than expected, she had silver eyeshadow and blue lipstick already that matched perfectly, and ended up sitting on the couch, Heppni staring at her, as she watched the clock, buzzing with excitement. When Jiji finally messaged her, she practically bolted out the front door, and couldn’t make herself wait for the elevator. 

Jiji stood right outside the front door, leaning on a two-door, red, wheeled runner, with a long, open bed behind the cab. She looked like an entirely different person, wearing a short, pleated black skirt, with a pastel pink t-shirt tucked in, fishnet thigh-highs, combat boots, and a choker. Ncoy stopped in front of her, grinning, and Jiji said, “You look great.”

She flipped her braid over her shoulder, she had done a six-strand for the occasion, “You too, are those the same boots from R’wisid?”

Jiji held one up, off to the side so Ncoy could see it, “Sure are-”

A fat drop of rain on the windshield cut her off, sending both women scrambling for their respective doors. Ncoy slammed hers right as the stray rain became a downpour, both laughing. Jiji leaned forward to look at the sky, “I guess we don’t get to ride with the windows down.”

“We still could.”

Jiji looked at her like she had suggested walking, “Oh hell no, you are not getting my runner wet.”

“But it already is.”

Jiji shifted into drive, pulling onto the nearly flooded road, “You know what I mean.”

The rain drummed loudly on the roof as they drove, the buildings nearly obscured behind the thick downpour. Over the cacophony of the wipers, the engine and the rain, Ncoy could barely hear herself think. They hit a puddle, sending a wave of water almost as tall as the runner flying, making the entire vehicle shake. She instinctively grabbed the handle over the window, which made Jiji laugh, “Don’t like the puddles?”

“Not when you’re about to drive off the road, no,” Ncoy said, sounding far more nervous than she wanted.

“I wasn’t even close, the water just pulls a little.”

“It does?”

Jiji spared a quick, doubting look, before returning to the road, “Have you ever driven in the rain before?”

Ncoy shook her head, still clinging to the handle like a lifeline, “Nope.”

Jiji flicked the turn signal, and maneuvered into a turn lane, “Well, if you want to go anywhere around here, you might want to get used to it.”

She pulled into an expansive, and largely empty parking lot, lined with low shrubs, and surrounded by squat businesses. Jiji said, “This should be it…” She trailed off as the runner came to a gentle stop in front of a building, “Want me to drop you off?”

Eyeing the still-pounding downpour, she said, “Please.”

As they got closer, Ncoy realized she couldn’t see any lights. Hand on the handle, she hesitated and said, “They don’t look very open.”

“What? They close at twenty-one hundred, it is Saturday, right?”

“Yeah, but it looks closed-closed, like permanently.”

“What? I come here all the time, there's no way! Let me go check.”

Jiji shifted into park, cracked her door, opened her umbrella, and ran for it. Ncoy watched as she pressed up against the glass. She walked over to the door, and looked at it for a while, but Ncoy couldn’t see why. Jiji lifted her umbrella and trudged back over, looking disappointed. As soon as she slid in, Ncoy asked, “Closed?”

“Yeah, had an out of business sign on the door.”

“Why didn’t you check first?”

Jiji raised her hands in an ‘I-don’t-know’ gesture, “I’ve been coming here for years, how was I supposed to know they’d just up and close?”

”Alright, that makes sense, but still, that’s weird.”

Jiji didn’t respond, just leaned back and crossed her arms. Ncoy scooted in closer, “It’s alright, that can’t be the only good place in the city.”

She exhaled deeply, “No, I’ve got a backup, but, I really liked that place. Their salad bar was super cute, it was like a little boat, and they had the best fried fish in town. It just sucks.”

Ncoy nodded sympathetically along, until Jiji shook her head a little, and shifted into drive. She said, “Alright, plan B it is.”

She took her to a nearby sports bar, with large, roll-up screens on almost every wall, and echoing, high ceilings. They slid into a booth, in a darker corner of the already dark dining room, under some of the exposed ducts. They still had to yell at the waiter to order, but they could at least hear each other, over the shouting from the broadcasts and people at the bars. When the waiter had left for their drinks, two sodas, since it looked like they would ask for IDs, Ncoy started with, “Were you serious about being a pirate too?”

Jiji ran her hand through her hair, “Well, yeah, actually. I’m not part of any big clans, though.”

She gave her a moment to continue, and when she didn’t, Ncoy said, “You can’t just leave it at that, come on. Tell me all about it.”

The waiter returned with their drinks, forcing them to pause and order. When he left again, Jiji said, “There’s not really that much to tell. It’s just Harruun and I, and we just do, I don’t know, whatever. Sometimes we deal in information, sometimes we smuggle, sometimes we harass rich people. It’s really not that interesting.”

“Like spying and smuggling isn’t interesting.”

“When you do it every day, it’s not. Like with you, is the army still interesting?”

Ncoy scoffed, “Never was, I’m a glorified handyman.”

The waiter returned with their food, four plates of appetisers and nothing else, again pausing conversation. Afterward, Ncoy asked, “If you’re usually pirating, why do you live here? If you do at all.”

She took a sip of her drink, “My son lives here with his dad, I try to come back when I can.”

“You have a kid?”

“No, I was lying.”

Ncoy stopped in the middle of a breadstick bite, and Jiji continued, “Yes, his name is Onyx.”

“Oh, yeah-”

Jiji cut her off with a smile, “I’m just messing with you, don’t worry. Normally I’d be over there today, but I’m home a bit early. We expected the R’wisid op to go into next week.”

Ncoy scratched her face,”I guess that’s my fault. Sorry not sorry, I was just doing my job.”

“So was I!”

“Since we're sitting here right now, I’d guess your feelings weren't too hurt.”

Jiji hid a lighthearted smile behind a sip from her glass, “Guilty as charged, it’s my best failed operation yet.”

“And my favorite crime, so far.”

“Got a few to pick from?”

“Please, I was a bounty hunter before I enlisted. I’ve got a whole library.”

Jiji exhaled a short laugh, “I’m gonna tell Harruun that, because they said I shouldn’t talk to you, but now that you’re scum too, it’s all good.”

Ncoy snorted, trying not to let it come out her nose, “I should arrest you for insulting military personnel.”

“That’s a fake crime.”

“Doesn’t matter, I can do it anyway. I think.”

Jiji rolled her eyes, “You join for that?”

“Hell no, I only did it to get the bounty guild off my back.”

She breathed an exaggerated sigh of relief, “Good.”

They soon finished eating, although sooner than Ncoy really wanted, and Jiji drove her home. She found herself hesitating outside of her apartment, and not just because of the rain. Taking a deep breath, she said, “We need to do this again, before I ship back out.”

“Agreed. I’m free any day after Friday.”

“Saturday, then?”

Jiji cracked a smile, “I was hoping you’d say that. Any ideas for where?”

“Well, since you can’t pick open places, and I can’t pick anywhere, I vote one of our places.”

“Do you have any furniture yet?”

Ncoy leaned away slightly, “Not really, why?”

Jiji nodded, “We’re going to mine. I’ll send you the address.”

“Thats, fair.”

After that, she had run out of excuses to sit in the passenger seat any longer. She cracked the door, and said “Wish me luck,” before dashing inside. 

Inside, she sat beside Heppni, wrapped in a blanket, to begin the long process of unbraiding her hair. She said, as if Heppni could respond, “Y’know, my little friend, maybe Hos’eaq won’t be so bad.” 

The rest of the week came and went in a rainy flash, and before she knew it, Saturday had arrived. Without much of a choice, she wore her rain jacket and took the leg runner, getting absolutely soaked. Jiji, upon opening the door to Ncoy, looking like a half-drowned Shiak, was nice enough to lend her a few towels. They settled onto Jiji’s much nicer couch, a respectful distance from each other. While Ncoy wrapped her dripping hair, Jiji flicked through the options on her TV, passing from movie after movie with no input from Ncoy. She asked, “See anything interesting?”

Ncoy couldn’t say she had been paying attention, she had never had a streaming service before. On Sayaa, she had always been too busy, and the Hawk didn’t have internet. “Nope. You pick.”

Jiji grimaced slightly, “Don’t make me pick.”

“Look, I haven’t watched a movie in a year, I’d close my eyes and click.”

“So would I”

Ncoy gestured at the screen, “Then do it.”

She playfully rolled her eyes, and did so. The screen scrolled down, and landed on a rom-com, that if the title and the thumbnail were anything to go off, was at least twenty years old and terrible. They shared a glance, and Jiji pressed play. The movie itself was nothing special, Jiji had evidently seen hundreds just like it, but her clever side comments made it ten times better. 

About halfway through, Jiji asked over the movie, “Wanna shut it off? I’m getting bored.”

“Yeah, same.”

With silence instead of stiff dialogue filling the atmosphere, Ncoy quickly felt uncomfortable. She stared at a neutral spot in the wall, while Jiji shifted awkwardly in place. She fiddled with the now-damp towel still wrapped around her hair, while Jiji cleared her throat and said, “You know, I just realized I never asked, how old are you?”

Ncoy sucked in a sharp breath, “Seventeen.”

“You’re what? How? I thought you were my age at least!”

“Which is?”

“Twenty one!”

“Oh, I had you pegged for twenty four-ish.”

“And you still went out with me?”

Ncoy shrugged, “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Jiji shook her head and blinked, “I- I’m gonna ignore that. Thank the gods we didn’t fuck on Riwisid.” 

“It would have been fine, it’s not like I would have reported you or anything.”

“No, but still,” she half-whined, “I’d’ve been a kiddy diddler and not even known it.”

“I am not-“

She cut her off, “Legally, you are, and you might be alright with that, but I’m not.”

Becoming serious, Ncoy nodded. Jiji continued, “I’d love to be your friend, but I couldn’t date you seriously, at least not yet. How long have you lived on your own?”

“Uh- a little over a year.”

Jiji’s lip twisted, Yeah, you’re just starting your life. It’s too early to date seriously.”

If Ncoy were her fifteen-year-old self, she may have argued her maturity, but deep down, she wasn’t ready, and she knew it. Jiji was a mother, and had an established adult life. She didn’t want a messy, late high-school relationship, she wanted a wife, and someone stable enough to be in her son’s life. She said, “I understand, I mean, I wouldn’t date a thirteen-year-old.”

“I didn’t mean it like that-“

“But I get what you mean. None of the adults I’ve been with before wanted an actual partner, you know?”

Jiji hissed a short, awkward laugh, “That kinda scares me, but I do.”

“Yeah, they weren’t excessively concerned with my life development, but that right there is a topic for another day.”

They paused for a moment, but before their silence became awkward again, Jiji asked, “If you’re living alone, how did you join the Army?”

“What do you mean?”

“To join underage, you normally need your parents to sign off. Did you forge it or something?”

“No, they never even asked. I joined as an ex-bounty hunter - without papers - and I guess I looked old enough, or they didn’t care enough.”

After a beat, when it became clear Jiji had nothing to say, Ncoy continued, “Have I shown you Heppni yet?”

“No?”

Ncoy pulled her comm from her pocket, pulled up a few pictures, and handed it over. Most of her pictures were old, pre-Bhaa, but Jiji fawned over her anyway. She asked, “How old?”

“I don’t really know, but I’ve had her, nine months? Something like that.”

“I’ve never seen someone keep a Shiak as a pet before, only the huge ones in Little Sayaa.”

Ncoy shrugged, “It’s weird, I know, but space gets lonely, and the Hawk isn’t big enough for a Torque.”

“Gods, tell me about it,” her gaze turned blank, biting the corner of her lip, as if thinking, “What do you do with her when you’re away?”

“I bring her with me.”

“On deployments? Is that, allowed?”

“No, but I didn’t have anyone to watch her, still don’t.”

Jiji straightened up, “Hell, I’ll watch her.”

Ncoy could feel the gears in her brain stick as she processed, “You will?”

“Sure, if I can keep a kid alive, I can probably handle a rodent.”

Ncoy blinked a few times, “Well, thanks. I owe you one.”

“Nuh-uh, this is your favor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so the gay shit begins
> 
> Blessed be and happy Yule


	9. Movement 3, Section 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Non-graphic violence, guns, implied and on-screen political violence, off-screen torture, violence against natives
> 
> Another sudden update, since what was supposed to be this update was half-done and ten thousand words. So, in the interest of not scaring off my few readers, have an update <3

They met two more times before Ncoy left again, once to meet Heppni in person, and once for lunch. Heppni seemed to like her, an overall good sign, and Jiji had listened attentively to all of Ncoy’s tips for Shiak care. Truly, leaving Heppni on Bhaa, with someone to watch her, lifted a massive weight from Ncoy’s mind. Maar and the others would be disappointed, surely, but they would understand, it was for the best.

When they day came to ship out again, Ncoy rose at the ungodly hour required, bid Heppni a short goodbye, and lugged her bag to the shuttle stop. Jiji planned to come and pick up Heppni later, whenever she woke. Ncoy couldn’t blame her, as she bounced along in the shuttle, still mostly asleep, she would have given anything to be back in bed.

The transport ship was more or less the same as last time, the same or a very similar model, although the exterior shade of brown was nowhere near as awful as the first one. She checked in, and reported to her room for takeoff, and found Maar to already be there. He didn’t say anything when she walked in, just looked up from his datapad for a moment, and went back to tapping at it with the stylus pen. She ignored the snub, and sat down on her bunk, as the transport began to rattle it’s way into space.

Ncoy opened her datapad for the ‘briefing’, and found a whole set of files, one being the flight plan. It detailed two stops, one at the Central Nyan Waypoint, a massive space station almost exactly in the center of the republic, and the destination, Kroth. One of the other files held a description of the world. It said Kroth was a mainly temperate, forested world, slightly beyond a disputed area of the central southwest. Nyaa had taken it only recently, barely three years ago, although it must have been a small battle, or fought entirely by Imperial forces, since Ncoy knew nothing of it. The file also mentioned the indigenous sentients, a largely standard species, orange-skinned and with short, leathery wings incapable of flight, who had only been members of the universal community for the last fifty years. They had an entirely local rebellion, not supported by Styarnah, and little more than a nuisance, based on their record. Still, they were overwhelming local and military police, and preventing Nyan colonists from settling. 

They had a file on the rebellion too, which they seemed to have about half of in custody. The rebels wanted Imperial support, although Nyan intelligence deemed it unlikely they would ever see it, which Ncoy agreed with. The planet held almost no value, little in terms of manufacturing, rare natural resources, or strategic placement. The natives, short handed and under equipped, sometimes to the point of fighting with swords and clubs, held a nearly zealous devotion to their cause, and weren’t expected to give it up willingly.

Tayz and Neghk got on at the waypoint stop, five days into the trip. She welcomed the addition, Maar had barely said a word the entire trip. With the waypoint behind them, she only had three days of travel left.

Tayz’s first words upon entering, before even ‘hello’, were “Where’s Heppni?”

Ncoy had been waiting for a video to load, the connection on the transport could barely handle books, and she didn’t want to ask Maar for his hotspot. She said, “Still on Bhaa, sorry.”

Both men shucked their bags, and Tayz said, “I thought you couldn’t leave her.”

Ncoy clicked her tounge, “What can I say? I found a good Shiak-sitter.”

Neghk asked, “Who?”

Ncoy answered back, far too quickly, “Why do you care?”

“I  _ was  _ just trying to make conversation, but now that you’re being weird, you gotta tell me.”

“I am not.”

Both scoffed, almost in unison, and Maar looked up for just a moment. Neghk said, “You’re acting like a kid caught shoplifting. Spill it.”

An involuntary smile curled her lip, and she said, “Fine, her name is Jiji, and she lives pretty close-“

“Wait, Jiji? Like the Sayaaun spy?” Tayz interrupted.

“Pirate, not spy, you’d already know that if you let me finish, but we met up a few times over leave.”

“Damn,” Tayz said, poorly hiding a smile, “you get a hot, pirate girlfriend by _ accident _ , and I can't get a girlfriend at all?”

Neghk started up his ladder as Ncoy said, “It’s my amazing charm, total chick magnet.

Tayz snorted, and Ncoy continued, “But really, we’re friends, not dating.”

He started up the ladder, earning a dirty look from Maar and saying, “I get you.” 

Once on the bunk, he stage-whispered, “What’s his deal?”

She shrugged, “No idea. He’s been in a mood all week.”

Maar roughly pulled his headphones off, “I can hear you, you know.”

Neghk leaned forward, enough for Ncoy to see his double braids over the bunk, and said, “Then stop being edgy.”

Maar returned a stunningly sour look, and went back to his datapad.

Three, uncomfortable days later, they finally approached Kroth. The massive transport landed on what appeared to be a local pad, standing on it, it seemed like a nonstandard size. The troops walked to a group of waiting wheel transports, forest-green with a small cab and larger, cloth-covered back, where she and the others sat. Ncoy sat close enough to the back to see out, with the rest of her squad, save for Maar, who instead leaned on the cab wall in the front. 

They bounced through the remains of a shelled-out city, with most of the brick buildings in some state of decay. A few had only a damaged roof or top floor, while others were little more than piles of rubble. The road they drove on hadn’t been spared from the destruction, being more of a set of potholes held together by cracked concrete than a true paved road. A few of the deeper ones looked large enough to hide a small child in. The air lay thick and still, yet gently damp and cool, although after six weeks on the steam-cooker of a planet known as Bhaa, what she would have once called suffocating now felt almost dry.

They stopped outside a four-story civilian hotel, of all places, one of the last buildings left standing on the block. It had an unlit neon-lettering sign outside, with script in a language Ncoy had never seen before, mostly covered by Nyan banners. The banners themselves were typical, dark blue base with silver accents, and the Nyan three-J symbol also in shiny silver, reflecting the weak, morning light. The hotel had yellow paint, which may have been nice once, but now had so many cracks and had faded so much, bare concrete would have looked nicer. The sidewalk had almost countless cracks, each one choked with weeds, that Ncoy tried to avoid stepping on as the company made their way to the door. 

Inside, after the squeaky door finally let them in, she noted the generic, inoffensive art on the walls, some hung up, some leaning, and the brighter yellow walls, and the heavy, circular desk in the exact center of the room, with a military secretary standing in the center. Ncoy walked up to it, since the rest of her group were too busy staring at something or other. The secretary, a short, Nyan man in a pristine, blue uniform, looked her up and down, and handed her a keycard. 

They started down the hallway, off to the right of the main room, and found their room to be right next to the first floor elevator. Ncoy tried to swipe the card a few times, and each time it refused. Tayz commented, “You’re doing it wrong.”

She dropped it after the next try, which she picked up with a groan, and said, “How can you even do this wrong?”

Neghk said under his breath, “Dunno, but you’re doin’ it.”

Her head snapped to face him, and Tayz picked the card out of her hand. It went through on first swipe, and he kindly kept any clever comments to himself. 

Inside, she threw her bag down and flopped out on the nearest bed, one of two, two-person beds. The room had walls a disgusting shade of green, a couch in front of the beds, and a small holoscreen built into the wall, and a small desk in the farthest corner. She asked, voice muffled by the bed, “Who’s gonna bunk with who?”

From the corner of her eye, she could see the other three survey the room, with reactions ranging from complete disgust to fully neutral. Tayz politely suggested, “If we’re using the couch, we should rotate nights.”

Neghk eased himself onto the farther bed, “I’d rather sleep with one of you fucks than on  _ that _ , I’m gettin’ an STD just looking at it.”

Ncoy and Tayz both jokingly looked at him, as Maar rolled his eyes, until he said, “Y’all know what I meant, quit it.”

Tayz sat down next to Ncoy as she said, “None of y’all get to clap me.”

Neghk shot back, “You can’t clap what doesn’t exist, seriously, you’re flat as a board.”

“Hey,” Tayz interrupted, “there will be  _ absolutely  _ no squad-cest on my watch.”

Ncoy ignored him, “Oh really? You’re-”

“Alright! Fucking te-atua, it’s like listening to a bunch of twelve-year-olds, just shut up,” Maar snapped.

Maar sat down roughly on the couch, and no one dared to say anything else. With the atmosphere well and truly ruined, they turned the lights out early.

Ncoy woke predawn to four, beeping alarms, one from each communicator. While trying to turn her’s off, she accidentally swept it off the nightstand, leading to groping around in the dark for it. Less than half an hour later, the entire nine-twenty-eighth loaded onto the same transports from yesterday, which this time, took them deep into the forest. As they drove, on a two-lane, dirt road, the trees became ever thicker, eventually arcing overhead, blocking out the rising sun almost completely. Every once in a while, another Nyan transport would lumber past, breaking the heavy stillness, but not often. Ncoy couldn’t shake a deep feeling of wrong, but she couldn’t hope to place it. 

Forty-five minutes in, she leaned over to Neghk, and asked, “Have you seen any civvies at all yet?”

He shook his head, “They’re probably all evacuated, but you never  _ really  _ know.”

“What, what do you mean by that?”

Neghk glanced around a few times, and leaned in closer, “Have you heard of Operation Phnhex?”

“No?”

“Read the files sometime, just not when you’re eating, or where Talesvoa can track you. They don’t really like us knowing about it.”

Ncoy sat up straight, staring questioningly at him, “What’s it about?”

“Just read it.”

The shuttle stopped at a Nyan checkpoint, painted with the swirling symbol of their republic, on the edge of a clearing. There were no visible fences, although an electric one easily could have been buried below. She leaned out as far as she could, trying to get a look at the camp, although, as she got her angle, it looked less like an Army camp, and more like a village. Ncoy could see a government building, if the high spire in the center was anything to go by, and rings of small, worn houses. The shuttle lurched back into drive, and took them through the center of the village. 

From a closer vantage point, the houses appeared in worse condition than before, not bombed, like the landing port, but crumbling, and in a few cases, burned. She saw doors hanging off hinges, smashed windows, roofs with cracked tiles, and vines creeping up wall after wall. At one point, Neghk tugged at her sleeve and pointed to a house, saying, “Look.”

She did, and saw an elderly native woman sitting in one of the houses, behind an empty windowframe, and glaring sharply at the passing transport. 

Ncoy didn’t look out any more, until the transport stopped. She hopped out, and got a better look at the central building. It didn’t resemble any other government building she had seen, unlike so many smaller worlds that copied Sayaa or Nyaa. It almost resembled a flower, white, with petal-like layers extending up to a conical top, ending in the spire she saw earlier. Unlike the rest of the village, it had little damage, other than some grime from neglect. 

Inside, she almost recoiled from surprise. There were  _ people _ scattered everywhere, some on cots and some on the floor, all native, mostly curled up and miserable. She could see discolored spots in the floor where cubicles and desks had once been. Despite the natural light and high ceiling, a heavy feeling settled over the large room, as the nine-twenty-eighth took in the scene. A Nyan man, one of the only in the room, stood up from talking to someone on the floor, and strode over to the group. He said, “I am Sergeant Whix, and welcome to Kroth. As you can see, we’re holding suspected rebels and Sayaa-sympathisers here for processing, before we can release or move them to a more secure facility. The MPs will handle the processing, your job is to guard the exits. Understood?”

A small chorus of “Yes sir,” went up, and he continued, “Two per window and door, go.”

Ncoy practically dragged Tayz to one of the windows, where she could see the back hallways better. She could just barely see the blue military-police helmets, walking back and forth down the hallway, often with a prisoner, sometimes walking between them, sometimes being dragged. Sometimes, she would see them walking the lines of cots, picking up prisoners, once literally, to bring with them. 

Late in the day, two of the MPs came close, closer to her than any before. They picked a young man off a cot, instantly causing a massive commotion. The two others he sat with, a man and woman, started shouting, and tried to pull him back, as he tried to push the policeman off. One Nyan reeled up, and struck the uncooperative one, the sick flesh-on-flesh impact ringing through the entire building, followed by onlooker gasps. The prisoner went limp, and slumped into the other MP’s arms. His companions only struggled harder, the woman raking her long nails into the policeman’s arm. The first one, who threw the punch, whipped his head around and shouted, “You! Come help me with this.”

Both Ncoy and Tayz quickly looked away, but it did her little good. She asked, already certain, “Me?”

“Yes, you, now c’mere.”

She gingerly stepped forward, and he released the man, who almost immediately lunged for his unconscious partner. Ncoy caught him by the shoulder, boots squeaking with force, and threw him back, hard enough for the cot to scrape far out of place. Before they dragged him off, the one holding him said to Ncoy, “Private, come with us.”

She took one final look at Tayz, who was trying, and failing, to look unconcerned, before falling in step behind them. 

As they walked, or dragged, in their prisoner’s case, she noticed his eyes weren’t just shut, they were screwed shut, and his head remained more or less stiff as they bounced him along the floor. Either he had started to come to, or he was smart enough to fake it, of which she could only hope for the former. Even for the hardiest species, being knocked out cold never bid well. 

The MPs stopped at an unmarked door, and as the second one dragged the prisoner inside, the first one stopped her, “Stay outside, and make sure no one comes in, and I mean  _ no one _ , not even the Sergeant. Understood?”

“Yessir.”

He shook his finger slightly at her, “Good.”

He slammed the door behind him, locking it with a loud click. Ncoy shifted her weight foot-to-foot, wondering why they even wanted a guard, and how they expected her to keep the Sergeant out. For one of the questions, she didn’t have long to wait.

They must have forgotten about her plus-standard hearing, since when they lit the electro-prod, she heard the snap of arching energy clear as night. The devices were illegal for use on livestock on some worlds, nevermind in interrogations. On prisoners of war, it was a UNSC-prosecutable offense. 

A sudden scream tore from behind the locked door, loud enough for anyone to hear. She jumped at the sound, but forced herself to straighten back up, and resist the urge to cover her ears. The prod crackled, maybe from contact, but this time, the scream was barely audible, even for her. He screamed again and again, all muffled, until the sound muddled in her head, mixing with memories and her own heartbeat, and she could barely tell which were current. Unconsciously, her hands went to her mouth to bite the already short nails, as she thought. As much as she wanted to, she wasn’t an action heroine, she couldn’t just kick the door down and save him, not without repercussions, some of which she absolutely couldn’t afford. Her boot tapped against the ground as she tried to mentally pull away, to think of anywhere other than here, but nothing came. Every time the prod would crack, it would drag her right back to that blank, tan hallway.

The lock unexpectedly clicked, and she rapidly snapped back to attention as they dragged the now-certainly unconscious man out. One MP said, “Wait here, we’ll be right back.”

She reluctantly obeyed, and they did, pulling along another prisoner, then another. Ncoy had to stand by that damned door for hours, unable to do anything but listen to the atrocities on the other side. Eventually, near the end of the day, she could stand it no longer. As soon as the lock clicked on the other side, she walked off, searching for a bathroom, or even a corner to hide in, consequences be damned. 

Ncoy found it in a poorly-lit, small bathroom, far from the main holding room. She stepped into the large stall, and began to remove her armor, starting with the vest. Once down to just her cargo pants and white undershirt, she set the offending gear on the ground, and took her deepest breath of the day. Hiding in the bathroom felt elementary, a move too close to her old self for comfort, but if she had a better option, she would have already taken it. Ncoy rubbed her achingly tight shoulder muscles, considering what to do. This would be temporary at best, yet she couldn’t bear the thought of returning to that hallway. With unsteady hands, she dug her personal comm from her vest, and selected the only comm she could reach from this part of the universe. It rung for what felt like an hour, although really couldn’t be longer than a few seconds, and Jiji asked, half slurred, “Wha’s up?”

“Hey,” she replied, wincing at her cracking tone.

Instantly clear, Jiji asked, “Is something wrong? Are you ok?”

She cleared her throat, “Yeah, thanks, it’s, it’s just getting kinda rough out here. I’m not in danger though.”

She paused for a long time, “I understand. Do you want to talk about it, or…?”

“Not, really. Thanks though.”

“Alright,” Jiji said, “what time is it there?”

“Umm,” Ncoy pulled out her army comm, “it’s… nineteen hundred hours here.”

She heard a quiet yawn from the other end, “It’s maybe, four-ish here. I don’t have a clock.”

“Oh, I woke you, didn’t I? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“Yeah, but I said ‘call me whenever’, didn’t I?”

Ncoy inclined her head, “You did, but still.”

“Don’t worry about it, what friends are for and all that. Besides, it’s not like I’m never up this late.”

Ncoy heard the door to the bathroom open and shut. She leaned into the comm and whispered, “Gotta go, bye,” and pressed ‘end session’.

She took a steadying breath, and started putting her jacket back on.

By the time she returned, she had been gone almost twenty minutes, and the battalions were in the midst of a shift change. She slid in beside Maar, who thankfully ignored her entirely, and followed the worn group to the transports. 

On the ride back, no one spoke, all too tired to talk, even Tayz and his friendly chatter. None of the squad said anything until they reached the room, and Tayz said, “I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t that.”

Maar balled up his jacket and threw it at the couch, harder than necessary, earning him rude looks from Ncoy and Neghk. “Get used to it.”

Tayz protested, “But it’s  _ unconstitutional _ .”

“For citizens,” Neghk added.

“What’d you mean by that?”

Maar scoffed, and Neghk continued, “The constitution protects citizens from this treatment. Doesn’t mean jack if they’re not citizens, and I  _ really  _ doubt this is a Ka’ar world.”

‘Ka’ar?” Ncoy echoed.

Maar made a low sound at the phase, inches from a growl, making Ncoy regret ever asking. Neghk explained, “Nyan member worlds, generally close to Talesvoa. Their citizens have full rights.”

“We’re all risking our lives here, but only one of us reaps the benefits,” Maar growled.

Tayz straightened up under his heavy gaze, refusing to look even in his general direction. The silence weighed heavily on Ncoy, feeling like an eavesdropper on a conversation meant for Nyans only. Neghk scuffed his feet and cleared his throat, “Nyaa isn’t perfect, but it’s ours. It can always improve. Would you rather be ruled by pirates? Or Sayaa?”

“I’m startin’ to consider the latter.”

“Have you ever even  _ been  _ to a Sayaaun-owned planet?”

His eyes flicked to Ncoy, “No, but I know one person here who has.”

Her tired mind took a moment to register the switch, “What?”

He crossed his arms, “Go ahead, tell us about Sayaaun rule.”

“Oh no, you’re not dragging me into this.”

“Why?” He asked, “You afraid to insult our great Nyan empire?”

She almost rolled her eyes, “It’s none of my business. I’m not Nyan.”

Maar spread his arms, “Neither am I. No one’s gonna turn you in.”

“You know what I mean.”

Neghk warned gently, “Maar.”

“What?”

“Lights out in ten.”

Maar ran his hand through his hair, all the anger leaching out from him, “No one’s gonna enforce it.”

“Yeah, but I’m tired, and I think they are too.”

He sighed, a deep and bone-tired sound, “You’re right.”

She didn’t sleep for a long time.

Ncoy didn’t exactly have a nightmare, not like she used to, just a deep, unsettling feeling that lasted most of the night, waking her more than once. When she woke for the last time, she felt sore and bleary, and based on the other’s faces and stiff silence, she was far from the only one. 

After arriving they filed into their previous posts, and the day began again. This time, however, unlike everyone else, she half-dragged Tayz to a pair of open spots on the other side of the room. He didn’t say anything, she assumed for fear of making a scene, and allowed her to pull him along. Ncoy stood slightly closer than marked,where she could pull him away in one motion, and watched the room for the military police from yesterday. She had been raised with the fear of assasination drilled into her, if anyone could avoid someone in a crowd, she could.

Tayz leaned over at one point, whispering, “What’s this all about?”

Ncoy startled, but quickly recovered, “The MPs. You  _ really  _ don’t want to go with them.”

He cocked his head, “What do you mean?”

“Ask me some other time.”

By the end of the week, Ncoy fell into enough of a routine, and as the fear of the MPs faded, boredom rose to replace it. Every day, she woke up, rode the transport, stood guard over the ever-changing masses of prisoners, rode the transport again, ate, sent a message or two to Jiji, went to bed, and woke up to do it all over again. 

Strangely enough, they had weekends off on this planet. Neghk got a care package with painkillers, energy drinks, cigarettes, sleeping pills and gum, firmly cementing him as the most popular in the battalion, at least until he ran out. Ncoy bummed a few pills and knocked herself out from Friday evening to early Saturday afternoon.

When she woke up, bleary but well-rested, she couldn’t immediately see any of the guys, abnormal for the small room. She went to get water and brush her teeth, a blackout was a blackout, even if she didn’t have a hangover, and sat on the counter, considering how she would use her day off. Eventually, the front door opened, and the rest of the group walked in. Neghk clapped her on the shoulder, almost making her drop her toothbrush, and said, “Welcome back to the land of the living.”

She spit in the sink, “Where were you?”

“Lunch. We’re going back out in a second, if you wanna come.”

Ncoy washed the brush off, and stuck it back in her bag, “Sure. Got any plans?” 

“We’re going shopping, and we’re gonna loiter at a bar until someone gets tired. Tayz needs his beauty sleep.”

He poked his head in, “I heard that.”

Neghk wasn’t lying, they started with walking down the near-ruined street, in shorts for once, looking for stocked shops. With all the crumbling brick and shattered windows she had seen, both on the first day and today, Ncoy couldn’t be surprised it took them almost an hour to find anything open. 

They found a corner store, small and with boarded windows, but displaying an ‘open’ sign over the chipped door. Inside, there were only a handful of largely bare and crooked shelves, and a cashier’s desk, manned by one of the natives, a woman who could barely see over the counter. From this angle, and in the sun, she could see more colors in her wings, mainly in the shades related to red that couldn’t be described in Nyan. She slightly jolted when the bell over the door rang, but the group paid it little mind. 

Ncoy picked over the shelves, finding mainly dented and unmarked cans, until she found two packs of uranium and thorium energy drinks in the back, slightly dusty, but still good to drink. She gathered all of them and brought them up, dropping one as she set it on the table. The shopkeeper said, “I bought those for the Sayaaun troops, could barely keep ‘em in stock, until the Nyans moved in.”

She started to ring them up, and suddenly amended, “Thank the gods, of course.”

Her wings twitched as she bagged Ncoy’s drinks, irregularly and seemingly unconsciously. With an overly bright smile, she handed the bag over and said, “Have a great day, and thank you for your service!”

Ncoy accepted it with an awkward smile, and went to stand outside and wait.

They filed out one by one, Neghk and Maar empty-handed. When Tayz walked out, he said, “I think that shopkeeper’s a rebel. We should alert Command.”

Maar groaned, “Oh come on, she’s the only open shopkeeper in the city. Where are we gonna go if they shut her down?”

“It’s our duty.”

Maar stepped forward, barely in Tayz’s space, “There’s no proof.”

Tayz stepped back, “Did you see how never she was? That’s enough to look into.”

Neghk interjected, “We rolled in with tanks and dragged their entire government away, she’s got every reason to be.”

“She was probably pro-Imperial before, she said she sold these to soldiers,” Ncoy commented, holding the bag up as proof.

“All the more reason to  _ say  _ something,” Tayz insisted, “they’ll probably just take a look around and clear her.”

Maar’s lip curled into a snarl, “Go ahead, we won’t back you up.”

Tayz dropped it on the walk back to the hotel, if it could be called that, but if he slipped away to squeal while they weren’t looking, she wouldn’t be surprised. They dropped off their goods and picked up their coats, and set back off for dinner. 

Neghk led them to a dive bar, she guessed it could have been called rustic. With wooden walls, beat-up, red carpet, and crowded-in, mismatched tables and chairs, it vaguely reminded her of the one in Izarkh. She counted only four others inside, not much of a surprise, given it wasn’t yet seventeen-hundred hours. They sat at a corner table near the bar, away from the hoverscreens, since all were switched off. When Neghk didn’t order any food, and Tayz didn’t get a beer, Maar commented to Neghk, “You'd Better not be planning to bum wings off me, ‘cause you’re not getting any.”

He eyed the plate with disgust, “Dead bird? Delicious.”

Ncoy pointed with her fork, “Your species herbivores or something?”

He shook his head, “I’m just a vegetarian.”

She held up one of her ribs, “You sure you don’t want any?”

“ _ Absolutely.” _

Maar asked, “So, Tayz, do you not drink?”

“Hm?”

“What’s with the juice?”

Tayz held it out, “Just felt like it.”

“Bullshit,” Neghk said, “you're tryin’ to hide that you’re a lightweight.”

“I  _ am not _ .”

“You got wasted like a suburbs girl on her first night out on Bor’tvh’ia, and I had to drag your ass back to base at twenty-two hundred hours, with the rest of the damn  _ battalion _ watching. I don’t wanna hear shit about you not bein’ a lightweight.”

Even Maar had started laughing by the end, while Ncoy laughed so hard her tail seized, and Tayz’s dark skin flushed a bright red all the way to the tips of his ears. He took a deep breath to collect himself, and said, “I said I’m not  _ hiding _ bein’ a lightweight, I’m not denying that”

The next day, Ncoy woke earlier than she really wanted to, unfortunately adjusted to the pre-dawn mornings, and evidently not alone. Neghk had the holoscreen on, and Maar sat at the corner desk, hunched over something. Only Tayz was still asleep. 

She sat up, rubbing her eyes, which caught Neghk’s attention. He said, “Morning, princess.”

In her cloudy, barely-awake mind, she first thought he had somehow found out. Feigning a casual tone, she asked, “What?”

He over-enunciated, “Good. Morning.”

All at once, she understood his meaning, and couldn’t help but cringe. Looking away, she stood, careful to avoid disturbing Tayz, and stepped into the bathroom.

When she returned, towels still wrapped around her hair, nothing had changed. She sat next Neghk on his bed, and turned her attention to the screen. She could tell it was animated, and might have been a crime show, but she couldn’t be sure, even with the subtitles on, since she didn’t even recognize the language, nevermind understand it. As if reading her mind, Neghk held up a small, rectangular device, and said, “It’s one of my downloads, from my homeworld. It’s in Mindak, if you’re wondering.”

Still not completely awake, she replied, “Nice.”

Maybe an hour later, the room didn’t have a physical clock, she could see Tayz beginning to stir. Even being the last one up, the hour could barely be considered late. It wasn’t yet eight-hundred hours. His eyes fluttered, his thick lashes making the movement more visible, barely toeing the line of consciousness. Eventually, when his dark eyes opened completely, he focused on her, and asked, “What’re you starin’ at me for?”

“I’m not.”

“Sure.”

He sat up, taking his time to adjust, before asking, “You all done breakfast yet?”

Neghk said, not looking over, “No, and I’m not gonna.”

“Me neither. Maar?”

He turned around at his name, pulling a tiny earbud from his ear, “Hm?”

“You going to breakfast?”

He lightly scoffed, “If I gotta eat that cereal one more time, I’m gonna lose it.”

Tayz, who slept in sweatpants and a t-shirt, finished shrugging on his jacket, and said, “I’ll take that as a no. I’ll be right back.”

“Bye,” Ncoy said.

After a short bout of silence, she guessed maybe five or ten minutes, Neghk asked, “Got anything you want to do today?”

She shrugged.

“Well, what’dya do for fun?”

Ncoy’s mind went blank. She could say she liked webnovels, but she hadn't read one since leaving Sayaa, same with Ves-Bardagi. She said, “I used to play the Haowtt.”

“The what?”

“It’s a keyboard instrument from the Five Moons. Might be called something different down here.”

“Why’d you stop?”

She focused a little harder on the screen, “I…. moved. It couldn't come with.”

“Ah,” he replied, “You should go take a look at what Maar’s drawin’.”

Without any better ideas, she stood, at least somewhat interested in his art. She hovered behind him, close enough to see around his gravity-defying hair, but, hopefully, not close enough to bother him. She could see the glow of his datapad, reflecting blue light onto the sides of his face. He glanced to the side, and abruptly sat up, almost hitting Ncoy in the face, and pulling his earbud out, “Can I help you?”

Ncoy stepped back, clasping her hands behind her back, “Just looking.”

His eyes narrowed, “If you wanted to see, you could’ve just asked.”

Maar tapped his datapad a few times with the stylus, and handed it up to Ncoy. It looked unfinished, the shading wasn’t done, but it was a beach scene, with light grey sands, and a wavy, royal blue sea, reflecting a dark sky. Rain threatened, but the dark waters appeared inviting, somehow, with the blanket of grey clouds above. He said, dragging her back to the real world, “I’ve been working on nature scenes and backgrounds.”

“It’s amazing,” she said, awe coloring her voice, “the water looks so real.”

A small, barely visible smile lit up his face, “I’m pretty happy with it so far.”

“It’s of Bhaa, right?”

His smile faded, albeit not entirely, “It’s my favorite spot on my home island.”

“Must be beautiful. Show me when you’re done, alright?”

“Sure.”

As Ncoy handed the tablet back, it slipped from her fingers, clattering loudly to the floor. She just stared, while Maar looked from her, to it, and back, and said, “Do you dip your fingers in butter every morning? Why do we let you handle anything? At this point, it might as well be your fucking  _ name _ .”

Neghk looked over, “I’m calling you that forever now, by the way.”

Maar bent down, and put the datapad back on the desk, “You’ve officially been renamed Butterfingers.”

Ncoy threatened, “You call me that, I’m calling you Meow.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Wanna bet?”

Obviously swallowing a smile, Neghk stood, hands up, “Alright, Butterfingers, Meow, break it up.”

Both spun to face him, fast enough that for a moment, the joking expression fell from his face, until Ncoy couldn’t hold it any longer, and cracked up. Barely ten seconds later, after the other two started laughing as well, the door lock clicked, and in walked Tayz, holding a bowl of cereal. He stopped sharply, spoon hanging from his mouth, and asked, “What’d I miss?”

When lights out came, no one crashed into bed, as they usually did. Ncoy dragged her feet through brushing and conditioning her hair, putting more care into braiding it straight and tight than truly necessary. When finally in bed, she lay awake for a long time, unable to force her eyes shut. 

The next day, while en route to the holding area/jail, yesterday’s conversation with Neghk stuck in her mind. Everything that she once counted as a hobby, she either abandoned with her title, or had been forced to do it in the first place. She only ever played the Haowtt, or ran track, to please the Empress and her tutors, never for herself. Almost comically, she spoke three languages, plus all of the Five Moons dialects of Sayaaun, along with standard and archaic, but couldn’t kick a ball to save her life. Even now, if asked what she did on leave, Ncoy couldn’t say, other than maybe bother Heppni and watch TV. Her tutors would probably faint if they could see her now.

Ncoy flew through the week, barely in her body, as she thoughtlessly followed orders, and not much else. She would be surprised if anyone in the quartet said more than twenty words a day. By Thursday, all she could think about was the weekend. 

A screaming alarm from her comm woke her in the depths of the night, somewhere between late Thursday and early Friday. Ncoy leapt to her feet in an instant, pulling her rifle from the gear pile before Tayz could get up. She beat the others to the door, to see a stream of half-dressed Nyan soldiers running for the main lobby. Maar shouted to her over the still blaring alarm, “What’s going on?”   
  


She shut the door and began to dress, rushing through her jacket, vest, rifle and helmet, not bothering to change her pants, then shouted back, “Fuck if I know, something up front!”

Ncoy whipped on her last boot, and joined the flood of Nyans. Their collective bootfalls, inches from sync, pounded in her ears, joining with muffled alarms from the other rooms, and gunshots up ahead. Each one made her flinch, dredging up memories that had no place in the here-and-now. The other three weren’t far behind, Maar stood out enough that with even the quickest glance over her shoulder she could pick him out.

She slid into a full battle in the lobby, laser blasts and projectiles flying every which way, burying themselves into walls, furniture, and the Nyan soldiers alike. Some in her wave went down immediately, hit from attackers she couldn’t even see. She focused on the round, solid wood desk in the center, and ran for it, doubled over until the final jump inside, feeling a laser blast ping off her helmet. From its cover, she peeked over to get a look at the attackers, and return fire herself.

They certainly were the native rebellion, streaming in through the front door, now reduced to shards of wood and an empty frame. They were minimally armed, carrying civilian class weapons, even a few hunting bows and melee weapons, and wearing basic armor. Many were dressed more for a family outing than battle, so many wearing  _ shorts _ , and strangely enough, the vast majority wearing button-up floral shirts, above or below their basic armor. A few made it inside, but not many, made it inside. The door prevented any large push, serving as a choke, even while they tried to chop in from the outside. Fallen bodies clogged the already tight area further, as the better armed and trained Nyans overcame the surprise, and gained their footing.The few rebels remaining inside began to notice their steady flow of backup had dried, and began a wild scramble of a retreat. On a split-second thought, Ncoy hurdled the desk with only a slight tap from her boot, and landed running. 

Outside, more rebels struggled, their bright shirts pointed them out from any distance, but Ncoy didn’t have time to take in more of the scene. The fleeing rebels ignored their comrades entirely and pushed forward, in the direction of the forest. She focused on the rebel closest to her, forcing her long legs into longer and faster strides, thinking of nothing but looping her extended claws in his collar.

The deafening noise of a large engine rose from seemingly nowhere, as a six-seat leg runner swerved in front of her. Ncoy kicked into a slide, missing the legs by mere inches. From underneath, rocks digging into her legs through her sweats, she could see a hand boost her target in, then the other seven or so. 

By the time she stopped, dusty, panting, and with a superficial cut on her leg, the runner had already made the treeline. She spit to her side, and slowly began to rise, bitterly watching the overcrowded flat-top skitter away. 

A horn honked in her ear, making her jump, but the surprise only lasted a moment. Maar sat on a tall, two-seat runner, only a few feet away. She swung up before he could lower it, and he didn’t wait for her to settle. 

They flew through the trees faster than she had ever dared to push her own. Ncoy felt none of the characteristic jerking or shaking as Maar skillfully wove through, around and over the forest obstacles. The leaves whipped when they struck, in danger of drawing blood, although she couldn’t blame him for it. There was no trail, nothing other than a few holes and broken branches to indicate that any other runners had ever come this way. Eventually, she caught sight of a flash of metal, reflecting a lone beam of sunlight through the gloom of the canopy. She pointed to it, and Maar yanked the handlebars to follow, revving the engines to speed up, but she whisper-yelled in his ear, “If they  _ hear _ us, we’ll never find their base.”

“If we lose ‘em, we won’t find it either.”

He eased off the throttle anyway, keeping the larger runner barely in sight as he stuck to the shadows. Eventually, the rebels slowed to a crawl, forcing Ncoy and Maar to slide behind a group of trees. She leaned around him, just in time to watch the runner crouch through it’s knee joints, and slip down a short grade into a thicket of undergrowth, disappearing completely. After a moment, they, while keeping their distance, moved to a similar angle, to see an almost perfectly hidden, unnatural entrance. The Nyans could have gone past it a thousand times and never once seen it, not unless they knew to look from every possible vantage point. Maar quietly said, “We need to go in, before they can regroup.”

“Are you crazy? We can’t take on an entire base alone. I’m calling for backup.”

“ _ They’ll get away _ .”

“Fuck that, we’re gonna die,” she insisted, “and I don’t care about the Republic that much.”

He shook his head, but said nothing else, just draping his leg over the side with a sharp huff. Ncoy pulled her comm out and whispered into it, then shut it and said, “They’ll be here in ten minutes.”

His upper lip twitched over his canine, arms folded tightly, “Alright.”

Ncoy nudged him playfully, “Don’t worry, they’ll get your chance, they’ll leave at least a few shots for us.”

A deep sound, nearly a growl, escaped his throat as he looked down. She scooted back to give him more space, feeling like she just pressed the wrong dialogue option in a video game. 

They sat quietly, under the pretense of watching the base, but even if they needed to talk, Ncoy had no clue what she would say. With only three minutes left on the timer, a mass exodus out of the base began, runner after runner spilling out and scattering into the darkness of the forest. Ncoy pulled her rifle off the holder on the back of her vest, but Maar stopped her with a soft touch to the wrist. He said, “You’ll just waste laser.”

“Shouldn’t we chase ‘em?”

“No point, we’d catch one runner at best, or get shot. We should head back, see if we can help.”

She holstered her gun.

Just before the road came into view, she said, “That was my fault. I’ll accept full responsibility.”

He slowed further, they hadn’t exactly rushed back, “We didn’t know they’d clear out so quick. Besides, we probably would’ve been killed if we charged in like Fieeg.”

Ncoy quietly replied, “I don’t know who that is.”

“A superhero from this old TV show, she did that kind of shit  _ all _ the time. I think she was immune to lasershots or something.”

She laughed softly, if only out of appreciation. 

Although kind, his words did little to comfort her. Ncoy looked away as unwanted tears sprang to her eyes, blinking quickly to dry them. Logically, she knew Yiiean, her old strategy tutor wasn’t here to shout at her, but even multiple galaxies away, the reaction lingered.

They returned to the chaos of outdoor triage, for the second time in two planets. Maar parked next to an officer, standing near the perimeter, and asked, “How’re we doing?”   
  


“Not-,” he sighed, “We’re doing pretty bad, those rebels hit hard for what they had. This was just a distraction, they hit the munitions too while we were wrapped up. Any luck on your end?”

“No,” Maar said, “they cleared out before backup arrived.”

“Well, at least that’s one less place to look. If you’re not hurt, you can head on back to your room.”

He nodded, “Thanks.”

They ditched the runner near the front door, per lack of a better option. Some civilian contractors were tearing the door down, forcing Ncoy and Maar to step over wood fragments and tools. There were more contractors inside, patching bullet holes and scraping burnt paint from the walls, but they paid them little mind. In their room, Tayz sat cross-legged on the bed, absentmindedly staring at a random point near the TV, and Neghk lay sprawled out on the couch, watching a botball game, and holding an icepack to his head. He lazily greeted, “Hey guys, welcome back.”

Ncoy shuffled over to the couch, shedding gear as she went, and said, “Move, I’m gonna sit here.”

He shifted, and Ncoy sunk into the scratchy cushions, all of her fatigue hitting her at once, as Maar flopped onto his bed. She asked, “What happened to you?”

“Fucker with a metal bat cracked me over the helmet, and they couldn’t spare the drugs for a headache.”

Maar turned to Tayz, seeing as he hadn’t acknowledged them yet, “You good man?”

He nodded, “‘M fine.”

“It’s shock,” Neghk added, “it was his first battle.”

Maar simply laid back out, but Ncoy said, if only to keep her cover, “But it was my first battle too, and I’m fine.”

Neghk looked back up at her, “Where are you from?”

“Deep north. Didn’t I already say that?”

“She was a bounty hunter, if that’s what you’re asking,” Maar said.

“Yeah, that explains it. Tayz is from a suburb on Talesvoa, and he got rushed through basic. Far as I know, he’s never seen anyone shoot at someone else, much less almost get shot himself.”

The conversation lapsed afterwards, everyone either considering his words or too worn-down to add anything themselves, until Neghk asked, “So, where were you two?”

Ncoy deadpanned, “On a wild gais chase.”

“What’s a gais?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder if I'll have to take this down for publishing. I guess we'll see in a year or so. Blessed be


	10. Movement 3, Section 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for guns, blood, explicit murder, explicit fantasy racism, referenced slavery, minor character death
> 
> This one came together pretty quick, and honestly, I'm pretty proud of it. Enjoy!

Although she wanted to get some sleep,the comm alarm went off at the same time as usual, waking them all before dawn. Tayz had improved overnight, he seemed at least present in the moment as they prepared for the day, but still never spoke. Nothing else had changed, the halls and main room were in the exact condition she left them in, down to the wood fragments on the floors and half-painted walls. They hadn’t even finished installing the new door. 

Outside, however, were two new transports. Both for moving troops, with the same forest-green cover, but instead of wheels, they had eight legs each. Ncoy had never seen any larger than the six-seat one from yesterday, but between the two, they could probably move fifty standard beings. With a loud hiss, the mechanical knees bent, and it dropped from tall enough to make anyone jump, to an easy step in. She settled in her usual spot, near the opening.

In the back, a man cleared his throat, and Ncoy turned to see the same young officer from yesterday. He said, with all eyes on him, “From now until further notice, your main priority is to find the rebel base. You’ll pair up with another fire team, and after the transports drop you at the last spotted location, you’ll search in a grid pattern. Thanks to Gythadottir and Iadik,” he nodded in their direction, “we know the rebels are building into the ground, so you’ll be using infrared sensors and metal detectors. Any questions?”

Nothing.

“Good. You’ll be partnered with the fire team below you in number.”

He stood, and began to walk to the opening in the back. Once on the ground, the transport lurched to a standing position, making Ncoy hang on for dear life. The transport lumbered away, not half as graceful as Maar’s driving, or even her’s. She leaned closer to him and asked, “Your last name is Iadik?”

“E-ah-dik,” he replied, “and how in the deepest hells have you not heard that yet?”

Ncoy shrugged, “Guess you behave too well,” she paused for a moment to think, “any idea who the one-seventeenth is?”

Before Maar could reply, Tayz tapped her on the arm, and gestured, none too subtly, to a team a few seats down. She could tell they were a team because of how they faced each other in quiet conversation, made up of three women and one man. By the looks of things, they’d known each other a long time, much longer than the other fireteams, especially more than her’s. One of the group, a petite woman who Ncoy doubted would come to her shoulder in height, caught her looking. She tried to pass it off as a neutral glance, but still caught a dirty look. 

The transport lowered in a thick area of the forest, kicking everyone out into the dark trees. All totaled, Ncoy hadn’t spent much time in old-growth forests like this one. She had visited carefully controlled logging forests, with straight lines of small, straight trees, or clumps of scraggly, thin ones on worlds like Blowr. Here, the trees were earth-toned and solid, spread as the spirits pleased, and impossibly tall, enough where on Sayaa, the tops would be in space. Here, she felt dwarfed by the sheer scale, the dark canopy a skyscraper’s distance away. The ground was noticeably cooler, and the rotten leaves beneath her boots slipped and crushed as she stepped down. A strange smell gathered, strong enough to nearly taste it, somewhere between Bhaa right before it rained, and a raw potato. Earthy and dark, just like the forest itself. 

She stood behind her team, with the other standing a short distance away, buckling the sides of her vest and shifting her backpack.. One of the other women, broader and taller than the one from the transport, bridged the gap and asked Tayz, “Yous the one-eighteenth?”

“That we are,” he replied, “Are you the one-seventeenth or nineteenth?”

“Seventeenth. I’m Hifisl, that’s Grstu and Fescombe, and he’s Otwaqbo,” she said, thumbing respectively at the petite woman, her more average-build companion, and the team’s only man.”

Each nodded or waved, and Ncoy could see that one, Fescombe, had six fingers on her left hand, Tayz said, tilting his head to each in turn, “I’m Tayz, this is Neghk, Maar, and Ncoy.”

They acknowledged the others as well, and Hifisl, evidently the team’s spokeswoman, said, “Now that we’re all introduced, we should get started. Our grid square’s to the north.”

Maar called, arms folded tightly, “Who says?”

She pulled her comm from her vest pocket, and projected a small map from it. Gently, as if speaking to a child, Hifisl said, “This is us, and this is the square. You  _ should  _ have it on your comm.”

Maar’s lips tightened into a thin line, but before he could say something they would regret, Ncoy shot him a look and said, “Lead the way.”

Once they reached the square, they formed a two-row line, the other team up front with plastic detectors, and Ncoy’s in the back with metal. For a long time, the only sounds were the detectors faint beeps and the crunch of undergrowth. Outside of a few stunted conversation attempts between her and Neghk, no one said a word. Ncoy had just resigned herself to a long and awkward shift, when Grstu said, “Got something.”

Everyone stopped their sweep and came to her, opening their folding shovels. But, when they dug maybe six inches down, they found a pile of old, plastic beer bottles. Maar scoffed and drove his shovel into the pile of dirt beside the hole, while everyone else stared down at the pile. Fescombe squatted down beside it, picking through the dirt and gathering bottle caps as she went. She soon stood, brushed her knees off, and held a cleaner one up, “I collect these things.”

Maar rolled his eyes, hopefully out of the other’s sight, and Tayz said, “Well, I guess all that  _ was _ for something.”

They continued through the dense foliage, their collective hope for finding anything other than strange flora and trinkets fading with every step. Ncoy had to steel herself against jumping at every squirrel, if they could even be called that, that darted quietly across their path. The creatures had two extra legs, and an unusual, skittering gait, almost like the large bugs she saw in garages and allies on Bhaa. If she were anywhere else, she would’ve smashed the thing with her shoe or given up ages ago.

Maar asked, “So, when can we call it? ‘Cause unless trees or these Qaraywa-lookin’ things are joining the rebellion now, we’re not gonna find shit.”

That earned him a few sour looks from the one-seventeenth, and Otwaqbo broke his silence, “We go back when we finish.”

“Finish what?” Maar challenged, “Wasting our time?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Hifisl said, “Waste or not, we can’t pick and choose orders.”

Ncoy said, mostly to herself, “Doesn’t make it worth our time.”

Otwaqbo snapped his head up, and looked at her with the most scorn she’d received in years, as if she suggested boiling a puppy. He said, voice dripping with scorn, “ _ You _ need to be more respectful of our orders.”

Tayz and Neghk jumped in to defend her, but her focus had already shifted. Something made a sound in the trees, a sound almost like a sentient voice, She glanced at Maar, who nodded back. She began, “There’s something in the trees, we should-”

Laser shots from above cut her off. She instinctively ducked, Maar and herself milliseconds ahead of their comrades, but recovered quickly. Ncoy pulled her rifle from her back holster and returned fire into the trees, but without visual, she had no idea if she was hitting anything. At least, until a lucky shot from one of them, Otwaqbo and Hifisl had joined in, sent one rebel plummeting to the forest floor. Ncoy took off running, into an especially thick area, and found him pressed up against a tree, knife in hand, in the middle of removing his inner armor. She fired a quick, sidearm shot at his wrist, and said, “You’re under arrest.

He clutched his burnt wrist, and between pants, asked, “You gonna read me my rights?” He looked up, one gold eye squeezed shut, “Wha-, is Sayaa coming after all?”

She knelt next to him, checking for any obvious life-threatening injuries. Aside from a few serious, but not fatal cuts, he was fine, even from a fall that would kill most species. Ncoy said, “No, and you wouldn’t get Five-Moons forces anyway. Can you walk?”

His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t question her. “Maybe.”

She pulled him to his feet, and he nearly collapsed, clutching his side and breathing heavily. Ncoy threatened, “If you try to run, I will shoot you.”

“Does it  _ look _ like I could run?”

Pistol still pointed at him, she replied, “I never said you’d get far.”

Back at the clearing, most sat on the ground, gathered around Neghk and his medkit. She couldn’t see everything from this distance, but Maar knelt over Grstu, who laid out on the ground, head propped up on someone’s backpack. The rebel commented, “Well, one out of eight isn’t great, but it’s a start.”

Otwaqbo strode to Ncoy and her prisoner, face twisted in rage. He forced him to his knees, and as the rebels gasped in pain, pressed the muzzle of his rifle to his head. “It should be  _ you  _ bleeding out, and the rest of your terrorists with you.”

Fescombe protested from her seat near Neghk, and Ncoy pushed the barrel away, “He’s our best chance at finding the base. Not now.”

He glared at Ncoy, but lowered her weapon anyway. She turned to stand with Neghk, but after a few steps, she ran back to them and drove her steel-toe boot into his side. He buckled into the forest floor face-first. He wound up to kick him again, but Ncoy hauled him back by the strap of his vest first. He stumbled and fell flat on his ass, while Ncoy knelt down next to the rebel. He spit a glob of blood on the ground, hopefully from biting his tongue, and Otwaqbo shouted, “Who’s side are you really on?”

“Your’s, dumbass! Weren’t you listening earlier? We can’t just execute him!”

Fescombe stepped between them, “She’s right, we still need him.”

He set his jaw, and bitterly nodded, spur of rage gone. They both walked to Maar and Grstu, who Ncoy could now see wasn’t dead at all. Ncoy could feel the last of her nervous energy vacate, leaving her deflated. She brought the rebel to Neghk, and eased herself to the ground beside him. By now, it didn’t matter what he overheard, he wouldn’t be returning to his cause. She asked, “Has anyone called for backup yet?”

Neghk nodded, “Fescombe did, as soon as the shooting stopped. They’ll be here any minute now.”

“How is everyone?”

Tayz, who Ncoy hadn’t even noticed yet, slurred, “N’ver better.”

Neghk tapped him gently as he shifted, “Stop that.” He turned back to Ncoy, “He’s lost some blood, nicked him in the thigh, but he’ll be fine. Might not even need synth-blood. Hifisl got hit in the arm, but she was lucky. That shot was aimed for the heart. Fescombe got scraped in the neck, just the very side, barely broke the skin, but it was a real bullet, so they’ll have to watch that shit. We all got lucky.”

“And Grstu?”

He sighed, “She had defective armor. I’ve seen it before, hit it right and it just explodes. She took a lot of shrapnel, but she’s got a chance. Maar’s keeping his eye on her for now. Half of this damn gear is trash.”

“I didn’t know you were a medic.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know.”

If there was ever an invitation to shut up, that was it.

She turned her attention back to the rebel, who had scooted a but further away. He was still wheezing quietly, and had spit more blood, now drying in globs near his feet. The tops of the trees had to be a hundred feet up, even with adaptations, he could be in serious trouble.

By the time the transport arrived, he hadn’t yet dropped dead, and hadn’t coughed up anything alarming, a good sign, even if only because she didn’t want to be responsible for a dead body. The transport wasn’t the large, offroad leg runner from earlier, but a smaller, medical one, with four, thick legs instead of six small ones. They barely had enough space for everyone, with the two paramedics and the gurney in the back, but in the end, no one had to wait. The paramedics started on Grstu almost immediately, stripping the gear they could, and bandaging her up where she needed it further. On the quiet ride back, no one risked disrupting the paramedics, the rebel’s breathing didn’t ease, but didn’t worsen either. He stared at the medics from the corner of his eye, maybe believing she didn’t notice, maybe hoping to be checked out himself.

MPs met the group of nine at the staging area, where they whisked away her prisoner without a word. The uninjured got off there as well, which shook out to be an awkward walk with Maar, Neghk and Otwaqbo back to the commandeered hotel. Before she knew it, they had reached their door. 

She collapsed into her stiff bed from as far as she could manage, feeling her exhaustion in her very bones. Less than a year into her contract and she already couldn’t imagine getting up for one more day, not even the two left before evac. She considered contacting Jiji for a moment, but she didn't want to call her, she  _ wanted  _ to sit on her couch and share an orange with her, or play a video game with her. She wanted to sit with Heppni, even back on the Hawk. She wanted to be anywhere but here.

Ncoy didn’t have any dreams, or nightmares for that matter, which she supposed she should be grateful for, but it made four hundred hours come all too quickly. Getting shot at didn’t make their assignment disappear, no matter how badly her muscles ached as she woke up. She couldn’t be more grateful they only had a few days left on this cursed planet. When the transport arrived, it wasn’t the tall, legged one from yesterday, but two armored crawlers, both painted dark green, on thick treads, and when she swung up inside one, found it to be half-full already, including three familiar faces. They sat down next to three of the one-seventeenth and Tayz, a sense of disbelief rising in her. She could understand why Fescombe was there, but not the other two, particularly Hifisl, who still wore something under her vest on her wounded arm. Neghk asked, leaning around Otwaqbo, “You three got cleared already?”

Tayz nodded, “I got some blood and pills and they cut me loose this morning. I’m fine, though.”

Maar huffed, probably not loud enough for standard hearing to pick up, and crossed his arms. 

Fescombe said, obviously trying to change the subject, “I heard they got the base out of that guy who shot us. We’re supposed to arrest the whole damn movement today.” 

Maar said, “We’re gonna  _ arrest  _ them? With these trigger-happy dipshits?”

She raised her arms in an ‘it’s not my fault’ gesture, “Hey, that’s just what I heard, don’t shoot the messenger.”

Ignoring Maar and narrowing her eyes, Hifisl asked, “When did you hear that?”

“Late last night, someone was talking outside.”

Before long, the rhythmic noise of the treads stopped, parking near the edge of the town, and let on an unfamiliar officer. He wore the patches of a Staff Sergeant, although looked barely Tayz’s age, and had a distinctive air in the way he stepped in and sat. Ncoy had seen it a thousand times over, announcing him as privileged, and all too aware of it, before he so much as opened his mouth. He cleared his throat loudly and announced, “Alright, I’m only gonna say this once, so you better listen. Intelligence managed to find the enemy’s main headquarters, and it’s your job to clear it. Arrest everyone you see, but keep it to that. Command wants no shots fired, but if they attack first, you’re cleared for deadly force. Good luck.”

He stepped out, without even pretending to wait for questions. Fescombe said, under her breath but barely audible to Ncoy, “That’s what  _ I  _ said.”

The next time the treads stopped, Ncoy and the others near the door jumped out without hesitation, rifles at the ready long before they hit the forest floor. She found herself in a small clearing, surrounded by thick forest on all sides, with the only hint of sentient activity being an out-of-place mound in the center. As they moved closer, metal glinted from the mound, which soon became a door. They, Ncoy and a group of Nyans she didn’t know, crouched beside the door in firing position. A small man stepped out from the rest of the group, almost stepping on her hair, and produced a handful of precision explosives from his belt. When he detonated them, it took only a few pops, and the steel door fell outward with a teeth-clattering bang. Almost amazingly, no gunfire greeted them, and the Nyan strike-team pushed in without issue.

Inside, there were three, low hallways, all made of bare, cold concrete. Save for a few scuffs in the floor, the place looked like it had never been occupied. Only half of the entire force, what looked like just her transport, filed in, the rest setting up defensive positions outside. The rest of her team, plus the four she breached the door with, took the left hallway. 

Her team silently branched off at the first door on the right, to another plain, metal door, with no signs or locks anywhere in sight. Maar opened the unlocked door, and Ncoy stepped in first. It looked like an after-school program lounge, with a worn couch facing an equally worn wallscreen, blue countertops lining the back walls, with a microwave and mini-fridge, and at least ten people scattered throughout. They all froze, one mid-bite, and Neghk shouted, “On your knees! Hands on the back of your head!”

Ncoy worried some might try to cut and run, but with plasma rifles in their faces, the entire group rushed to comply, some literally dropping everything. She and Tayz pulled out their zip-ties, standard equipment, and started around the room. Ncoy had half the room tied before Tayz had the second prisoner secure, but with how severely each trembled under her grasp, she doubted they even needed the ties. 

They continued through the hall, turning each room inside out, even opening the cabinets, before calling them clear, inching to the back door. They met little resistance, most of the rebels were too frightened to speak, nevermind fight back. By the third group, they had wordlessly agreed to let Ncoy handle the zip-tying. 

In one of the final rooms, after a long string of evacuated, or simply never occupied rooms, one didn’t immediately surrender. The doors were wide enough for two to step through at once, and Ncoy and Neghk lead the breach. One man, if he was even that old, flattened himself against the wall, beside the doorframe, and charged out as soon as Maar and Tayz stepped in. Ncoy and Neghk raised their rifles, but Maar was faster. With a smooth lean out into the hallway, he caught the young rebel by the wing, and dragged him back inside. His wing gave a terrible pop, and Maar threw him into Ncoy’s hands. If he really tried, he probably could’ve gotten away, but he just sagged into her arms as she cuffed him.

The final room was a medium sized storage area, almost entirely full of high metal shelves, which on first glance appeared empty, but they knew better than to trust appearances. In total, they found six rebels, scattered in storage chests, between boxes, below the shelves, even one on the top rack, with barely six inches of space to the ceiling. They had just declared the room clear, and Ncoy began to count out her ties, when a distant shot rang out. 

Ncoy in particular could tell a lot by a sound, even from that distance, and if she was right, it was a plasma shot from the front of the building, where they held the prisoners. She and Maar shared a look, knowing exactly what it had to be. Their group of rebels seemed to catch it too, as they huddled closer together, and shifted their smallest member back from the barrels in their faces. She didn’t worry about their trembling arms behind their heads, or their small gasps from barely restrained tears, but she did worry about one.

She sat closest to the door, and a fair distance from the rest of the group. While the others stared at the ground or at the rifles, as if they could stop plasma bolts by looking at them, her eyes darted back and forth, from the door, to Tayz, and back. Ncoy incrementally shifted, meaning to put herself between her and the door, but she noticed, and must have thought Ncoy was preparing to shoot.

In an instant, she was up and running, Ncoy barely a step behind her. She stretched out, using every millimeter of her six-foot wingspan, but just as her fingertips brushed her wing, a massive sound split the air, and the rebel dropped. 

She looked around, momentarily confused, until she saw the rebel, lying contorted at her feet, with ultraviolet purple blood pouring from a hole in her back. The air burned with acidic blood and ozone. She heard gasps from the entire group, Tayz included, and soft shuffling. Ncoy whirled around to watch Neghk lower his rifle, expression dark and unreadable, as the rest of the room scooted away from him. She stepped forwarded and shouted, gesturing at the corpse, “What the  _ fuck _ ?!”

“She was getting away.”

Ncoy pulled him in close by the vest, looming over him, and all but growled, “ _ One more step  _ and I would’ve had her.” 

He pulled back, unintimidated, “We’ll discuss this  _ some other time. _ ”

She fully released him, “You fuckin’ bet we will.”

They returned to the previous rooms to collect their prisoners, none of which had fled, in complete silence. All three gave Neghk a considerable amount of space, although he hadn’t outwardly changed. In the hallway, she admittedly wasn’t watching where she was going, so when her boot hit a slick spot, she almost fell. Ncoy looked down, but truly, she knew long before. The fluid was the type of grey that meant she couldn’t see the true color, but it stuck to her sole and tracked, and the metallic smell she had hoped was leftover from Neghk’s shot didn’t clear. 

When they finally reached their room, it took less than a minute for everyone to settle in. Maar threw everyone a beer from the mini-fridge, which Neghk barely caught, and the rest settled in on the couch and beds. Ncoy took less than ninety seconds to start the hiyipent in the room argument, carefully cracking open her drink and asking, “So, why’d you shoot?”

Neghk quietly groaned, and paused with his hair half-undone, “What did you want me to do? Let her go?”

“I was  _ this close _ , there was  _ no reason _ to do that.”

He scoffed, “What would command have done if she got away? I did you a damn favor.”

“Since when is murder a  _ favor _ ?”

“You dumbass, Talesvoa has their eye on you, Maar too. Either of you slip up, and you’ll get slapped with a dishonorable discharge so fast it’ll make your head spin. You ever wonder why you’re on the same squad, and none of the other Bhaa’ans are? So they can  _ watch you  _ easier.”

Ncoy looked to Maar for support, hoping that he would protest, or back her up, anything really, but instead he just looked at his feet, shoulders slumped against the couch. He said, “It doesn’t change anything. You shouldn’t worry about it.” 

Tayz spoke, for the first time yet, “It’ll be fine, the rebels will come around eventually.” 

The rest of the group looked at him like he suggested putting his finger in a barrel to stop a shot. His back straightened and eyes widened as his grip on his unopened can tightened. Neghk said, gently, “Tayz, I doubt these people will be going to prison. You know what the penalties for treason are.”

He chuckled uneasily, “Of course, but most of this planet are rebels in some way, they can’t just execute a whole planet.”

“They’ve done it for less,” Maar hissed. 

Ncoy asked, partially ignoring Maar, “Did you even  _ go _ to school?”

He straightened further, “Yes, and I graduated with honors,  _ thanks _ .”

Neghk muttered to himself, so quietly she missed the first words, “-wouldn’t let us teach Txi-”

“What?”

He jolted, almost throwing his drink, “Huh?”

“What did you say?”

Now it was his turn to shrink in on himself, “I said, ‘they wouldn’t let us teach Txi, it’s no surprise he doesn’t know.”

Maar winced at the word, although it didn’t surprise Ncoy. Txi was a Nyan colony, ninety-nine percent ethnic Nyan even, that petitioned to join the empire about one hundred years ago, and when they didn’t back down, Talesvoa wiped them off the universal map. The crackdown came so violently and so fast that even the UNSC actually took action against the Nyan Republic for it. Truly, Sayaa had an incredibly similar situation with one of their supply planets, tried to join the ranks of neutral planets, buried deep in the Royal Archives. The only reason the council hadn’t sanctioned the Sayaaun Empire over it yet was simply, their intelligence could keep things quiet better. 

Maar asked, “You were a teacher? What did you teach?”

“Universal history for high schoolers,” He replied dryly, with a clear, unspoken request to drop the subject.

Ncoy said, “That explains so much,” and didn’t say anything else on the subject.

The group went to bed not long later. Tayz and Neghk fell asleep almost as soon as they hit the bed, but Maar tossed and turned for a long time, before eventually padding out of the room. Ncoy, being no closer to sleep than him, pulled her jacket off the foot of the bed and followed.

He was lighting a cigarette in the hall when she stepped out, careful to quiet the door behind her. He huffed sharply and kicked the filthy carpet, refusing to look at her, but Ncoy ignored it. She asked, “What’s on your mind?”

Maar blew out a thick cloud of smoke, “I hate this planet, I hate this job, I hate Nyaa, and I hate you. Happy?”

Ncoy shrugged, “I don’t blame you, plenty of people hate me.”

“No, that’s the fucking issue. This,” he gestured vaguely, “is a joke to you, same with Tayz and Neghk. It’s not a fucking joke to me, or my parents, who rely on these checks.” 

He paused to collect himself, and continued, quieter but not calmer, “You know what happens if I get shot? Huh?”

Ncoy took a moment to respond, surprised he wanted her to speak, “You… get discharged?”

“Exactly, then I go home, broken, to a stolen planet, and to a family that can barely feed themselves as it is, on a barren island.”

“Then why go back? There’s gotta be more for you in the capitol.”

“Are you fucking stupid? I’m Aylluaruana, Native Bhaa’an.”

“And?”

He scoffed again, “And you call yourself Bhaa’an. Outside of these tiny islands the Nyan government  _ so kindly  _ gave us, no one will hire us, no one will rent to us, half the time they won’t even serve us. So no, I  _ can’t _ just move to the capitol.”

“Shit, if I were you, I’d be long gone already. There’s lots of opportunity near the border and into the Empire. You could even go AWOL if you go for some of the uncolonized areas.”

“I don’t want  _ that _ ,” he replied, voice cracking and rising, “I  _ want  _ my home back.”

His voice stirred some long buried feelings, thoughts of Five Moons blue chilies and new year’s envelopes, but nothing she could say without revealing far more than she could afford to. Maar reached the filter on his cig, dropped it, and stomped it out. He pulled another from the pack with his teeth, and offered the box to Ncoy, which she gratefully accepted. 

He continued, much quieter, “I was six when Nyaa really moved in, we’d been a territory since the last expansion, something like sixty years, but when they actually took control, that’s when everything went to shit. All the skyscrapers we built, and yes, we built them, stolen. They took the whole continent, all of our resources, forced us to learn Nyan, even threw out all the pirates and travelers. We were newly spacefaring before the expansion, we barely had the tech to leave the planet, forget fighting Nyaa.”

He took a deep breath, and Ncoy pretended not to notice his shaking hands, “They paid us off to move to some islands near the equator, I remember my parents arguing about it, and we were so damn poor that we took it, all of us. It’s genius, really. They came in as friends first, then showed us their real power. They said they’d sell Bhaa to Sayaa if we tried to rebel, and that they’d strip-mine until there was nothing left. At this rate, we’ll be extinct in five hundred years, our whole history and culture, all without a single shot. But here I am, sentencing this planet to the same fate. The natives will be dead or in chains soon enough,” Maar shook his head, voicing breaking, “I  _ hate  _ this.” 

Unsure of how to comfort him, and feeling irrationally guilty, Ncoy opened her arms for a hug, which he accepted. She rubbed slow, soft circles into his heaving back, careful to not set his hair on fire, as he melted into her touch. She continued until his sobs faded to quiet tears, and he pulled back. Maar wiped his eyes with his thumb, and said, “I got you all wet.”

Ncoy pulled her shirt away to check, “It’ll dry.” She dropped her cigarette and crushed it, “We should probably head inside before someone comes along.”

He sniffed and nodded. 

Ncoy was truly grateful to get off Kroth, and on her way to Bhaa, but not to be back on the ship. No signals could reach a ship at plus-lightspeed, which, of course meant no internet. Not a problem for beings like Neghk, with his massive library of downloads, but a huge one for her and her blank tablet. Staring out at the void and running on a treadmill to generic music could only entertain her for so long. About a week in, when she caught Neghk alone in a hallway, she asked, “What was that report you told me about?” 

“Operation Phnhex?”

“If that’s the name. Do you have a copy?”

“Yeah, you wanna read that now?”

She shrugged, “I don't have anything better.”

“Alright, you can borrow my datapad tonight. Just don’t drop it.”

“ _ Thanks _ ,” she replied with playful chagrin. 

When she opened the file that night, it wasn’t long, barely fifty pages, and even with all the technical jargon, she got through it quickly. She was better equipped to read Nyan language government reports than slang anyway. It detailed a group of officers, stationed at the absolute edge of Nyan space, only one system away from Sayaaun control, involved in a whole ring of abuses. The charges themselves took up two pages, ranging so wildly she could barely make sense of what they had done, from curfew violations all the way to treason.

Fifty years ago, three Nyans, a corporal, a chief warrant officer, and a capitan, along with four Sayaauns of unspecified rank, sold civilians to pirates, illegally traded prisoners of war, and fixed the outcomes of battles, among other things. They executed mass arrests of civilians, under the guise of rooting out spies, including children, the elderly, and disabled adults, and offered free passage to slavers, sometimes under false intergalactic aid flags. Apparently, the two sides were known to meet illegally, and  _ make bets over drinks _ on outcomes of battles, and on who would be captured next. When Talesvoa became suspicious of their lack of progress, they staged a set of bloody battles, costing twelve thousand Nyan lives, designed to keep the stalemate intact. The report mentioned nothing of who finally told the UNSC, which probably meant they were a Sayaaun, but when they did, both sides offensives in the area ground to a halt. The systems, two extragalactic, one-planet-one-star wanderers, were in neutral space now. 

What surprised her less than the report itself, was that Imperial officials were involved. The republicans were largely atheistic and capitalistic, corruption was something she could expect from their ranking members, but Imperials? Bribes were grounds for immediate expulsion in the Sayaaun forces, nevermind something on that level. Money was unfit for any person of morality, or anyone who cared about appearances, to handle. Kija’s grandfather carried a handkerchief specifically for shopping, without it, he wouldn’t even touch his own credit cards. Republican individualism led to these things, by encouraging one to forget their family and their nation in favor of their own interests, that she knew. But she expected better of the Sayaaun Empire. No follower of the gods should have even been tempted by such a thing.

Ncoy could only assume the officers came from Sayaa Three, the wealthiest and most commerce-heavy of the Five Moons. Most of the executives and corporate headquarters were centered there, away from the government on Sayaa One, and the good, working people of Two, Four, and Five. The status of Sayaa Three and its residents was one of the only things she and the Empress consistently agreed upon, that they must be segregated. The immortal had no place among the royal court and Imperial command.

If  _ this _ was the side they saw, no wonder the Nyan people hated the Empire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally hit 50k words!! Thank you so much to everyone who leaves kudos and comments, it really means a lot to me  
> blessed be

**Author's Note:**

> The next one is probably a long time coming, this book is seriously long and is going to take forever to computerize. 
> 
> I’m currently editing the entire work, because around 20 minutes ago, I discovered AO3 allows footnotes. Thank you, Malicean, for showing me that with your work Welcome to the Club
> 
> I'd also like to thank Vigs for showing me how to navigate the hell that is AO3 footnotes
> 
> And I'd like to thank my beta reader, TheOldWorldBlues for helping me with this chapter 
> 
> His FFN page--> https://m.fanfiction.net/u/7329638/


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